


so my hunger can be free

by noirheart (Flumes)



Series: welcome to the new frontier [3]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Police, Chanyeol is an undercover cop, D.O is a hitman, M/M, Organized Crime, SuJu and Monsta X make appearances, Undercover, Violence, an attempt at plot was made, minor SuChen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 04:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16509521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flumes/pseuds/noirheart
Summary: Chanyeol flips onto the last file, curious. “And this one?”Siwon grimaces as he clicks onto the next slide. “This man is the most brutal of them all. Do Kyungsoo, contract killer.” The picture is barely discernible, a fuzzy husk again a grey backdrop. “Everywhere he goes he leaves a trail of bodies in his wake. Notoriously difficult to find but he seems to have contacts within Exo and has worked with them for years now. He is a man I recommend you avoid, if the situation arises that you happen to come across him.”





	so my hunger can be free

**Author's Note:**

> Hoo boy, this got outta control. I don't even know what I was doing with his fic, it just kind of ran away from me.
> 
> As a warning, this is a bit darker than the others fics in this series. There is an onscreen torture scene that's not too graphic but if it's not your cup of tea you might want to give this a miss.

 

“Come in, Chanyeol, close the door.”

 

Trying not to show his apprehension, Chanyeol quickly closes it and slips into a seat across from Minseok, keeping a calm expression upon his face. “What’s up, boss?”

 

Minseok steeples his fingers, dark eyes shining as his lips quirk into a half smirk. “I’ve been impressed with your resourcefulness so far. Yixing told me your idea for our CBX subsidiary worked out well.”

 

Chanyeol tries to fight the grin breaking over his face. His fingers twitch under the table, still uncertain as to where this conversation is leading. “Ah, thank you sir.”

 

“I have a, _hm_ , opportunity for you if you’re interested.”

 

He would be a fool to say no to Kim Minseok regardless of what said ‘opportunity’ would turn out to be.

 

“An opportunity, sir?”

 

Minseok waves his hand. “Leave the ‘sir’, please. There’s no need for formality between friends.” Chanyeol’s heart rate spikes. This might just be what he’s been waiting for. “I have a job that needs done. It’ll involve some infiltration and a little… creativity, shall we say?”

 

There’s something he’s not saying. Minseok has no need to be delicate with a nobody like him and if he is trying to be, then Chanyeol isn’t sure what it means. Probably nothing good. His hands are beginning to sweat so he drops them onto his thighs to hide them beneath the desk that separates them, wiping them on his trousers.

 

“I need someone to work with one of my most trusted men. He can be a bit of a handful but I know someone as bright as you will be able to work with anyone.” When Minseok smiles there’s something feline about it. It’s almost a threat. “Do you think you’re up to it? Yixing mentioned that you were interested in more responsibility.”

 

“I – yes, of course. I’d be happy to help,” he stammers out, with the feeling that he’s sealing the noose around his neck. This is what he’s been waiting for and he’s jittery with a potent mix of nerves and excitement, relying on his training to not let it show.

 

“Excellent,” says Minseok. “It pleases me to know you’re a man I can rely on.” He leans back, only sharpening the crisp lines of his black suit. Everything about the man is angles.

 

“Um, sir – I mean Minseok. What will I be doing, exactly?”

 

“There’s too many new gangs cropping up, thinking they can steal what we’ve been building for years. One of them now thinks they can start selling their wares on my territory.” Minseok snorts. “I need you to get a sample of their new drug, to see if it is, as I suspect, a copy of our own Kokobop. Destroy the rest. Make sure they never sell it again anywhere.” His eyes are cold.

 

Chanyeol gulps. “And the man I’ll be working with?”

 

The cat-like grin returns to his face. “Only my most trusted right-hand, of course. Kyungsoo.”

 

Kyungsoo. Do Kyungsoo.

 

Beneath the table, Chanyeol feels his hands begin to shake.

 

*

 

“Despite being a major player in the Seoul underground for six years now, relatively little is known about the Exo Group’s power structure beyond the public face of their more legitimate dealings. Their former leader, Wu Yifan, aka Kris, was cast out some years prior, after accusations of backstabbing,” says Siwon as he points at pictures on the board. “The whole story isn’t known to us and the man who then took over, only known as Suho, is a complete mystery. What I’m trying to say, Chanyeol, is that there isn’t much we can prepare you for. This isn’t going to be easy.”

 

Chanyeol takes this in and nods. He knows. He knows that he’s walking into a den of vipers. Knows he might never walk out again. He’s more than prepared for that, as anxious as the idea makes him. But he believes in this cause. Too long has crime been rife on the streets of Seoul, cutting down innocent bystanders in the crossfire of their petty games. Out of all of the members of their unit, Chanyeol is the best option for going undercover. He’s young, new, his face isn’t known and his record easier to suppress. There will be no family to mourn him should he die.

 

“Finding out about their power structure is your first task. Do what you can to get in with someone.” Siwon bites his lip, turning his head to reveal a handsome profile. “It could takes years to climb the ranks, if you do at all. But I believe you have what it takes.”

 

“There’s no one I can’t charm, boss,” he says, all false bravado and slick palms. It’s true, Chanyeol likes talking to people. He’s good at making friends and he has an easy charisma. It’s why he’s the ideal pick for this project. There is something fundamentally unthreatening about his smile that tends to reel others in.

 

Siwon smiles softly, almost sadly. “I know, son.” He rattles through a list of names Chanyeol has to look out for, their files sitting in front of him on the table with grainy photographs paper clipped to the corner of each folder.

 

“This is Kim Jongdae. Seemingly he’s some kind of weapons dealer. Our informants suggest he’ll smuggle anything, for a price, and he seems to be part of the Exo Group’s inner circle.” The man depicted is handsome, with prominent cheekbones and curly hair.

 

“Byun Baekhyun.” The next man has youthful features belying a darker identity. “Runs several brothels and casinos across the city. His affiliation to the group is unknown but several members have been spotted at his clubs so there must be a connection.”

 

“Next is Kim Minseok.” The man has captivating eyes and a wicked smirk. The photo has captured him leaving some sort of club, looking slick in a long, dark coat. “Former chemist with a degree and everything. No one knows what turned him to crime. We believe he makes their latest drug, Kokobop. None of the others have the skills.”

 

Chanyeol nods, thumbing over the blurry photo.

 

“Then we have Zhang Yixing, from China. Another mystery. There is no record of his birth whatsoever and it appears he may be in the country illegally.” The man has movie star good looks and jet black hair. How he ended up in this life, Chanyeol can’t imagine. “According to an informant he’s medically trained and skilled with a scalpel.”

 

Suppressing the images that conjures, Chanyeol flips onto the last file, curious. “And this one?”

 

Siwon grimaces as he clicks onto the next slide. “This man is the most brutal of them all. Do Kyungsoo, contract killer.” The picture is barely discernible, a fuzzy husk again a grey backdrop. “Everywhere he goes he leaves a trail of bodies in his wake. Notoriously difficult to find but he seems to have contacts within Exo and has worked with them for years now. He is a man I recommend you avoid, if the situation arises that you happen to come across him.”

 

Chanyeol looks up, met with the gravity in Siwon’s eyes. He nods. “I understand. I’m prepared for this.”

 

Siwon still looks troubled. He comes over and claps a hand over his shoulder, rubbing the other across his face. On the collar of his shirt is a coffee stain, brown against blue. “I hope so, son. I really do. I’m sorry that you’ve just been dropped in this. I tried to have them ask someone else but –”

 

“It’s okay, sir. I agreed. I believe this is something I can do. I want to do it.”

 

Siwon looks him in the eye. “Are you sure? It’s different sitting here, while you’re still you. Take it from me, as someone who’s been out in the field before. You lose yourself out there. Each day a piece of you wears away until you barely recognise yourself.”

 

Chanyeol simply holds his gaze, uncertain of what to say.

 

“Promise me this, Chanyeol. If it feels like you’re slipping away. If you’re losing sight of yourself… promise me you’ll get out. The mission is important but you come first, you hear me?”

 

He nods hard enough that his fringe falls into his eyes. He’s long overdue a haircut.

 

Siwon sighs a weary sigh and walks away. For a long while afterwards, Chanyeol remains, flipping through the files. He stays like that until after the lights go off, sitting in the dark. Contemplating just what he’s got himself into.

 

*

 

Before he’s let out into the field Siwon makes him meet up with previous officers who have gone undercover, to brief him on their experiences. Siwon believes it will help prepare him for the storm that is to come and Chanyeol gets the feeling the station chief doesn’t really believe he has what it takes to complete this mission. It only spurs him to prove him wrong.

 

“It’s something you’ll always carry with you,” says Donghae, stirring his coffee for what seems an unnecessarily long time to Chanyeol. He’s not old but there’s an age behind his eyes, dark and severe. “Even years after you get out, you won’t be the same. It changes you.”

 

“And would you do it again, knowing what you do now?”

 

“I don’t know.” The only way to describe Donghae’s look is haunted.

 

“It’s easy to get sucked in,” says Leeteuk, sitting straight backed against his chair. “The important thing is not to forget who you are. You are a police officer first, and anything else second. Do not forget it, Chanyeol.”

 

Chanyeol nods vigorously, feeling the weight of his words sink in. He won’t forget. He could never forget who he is, or what he fights for.

 

“I won’t forget,” he promises and Leeteuk looks satisfied, leaving him to stew on his words in the empty meeting room.

 

*

It takes six months for Chanyeol to work his way up the ranks of the Exo Group’s power structure. Six long months of menial grunt work, long hours that stretch well into the night, freezing Seoul winter seeping into his bones, and trudging back to a bare flat in the shitty end of town, walls too thin to ever get a decent night’s sleep when his neighbours fight and fuck and scream. It is what it is. As far as timelines go, his ascension is meteoric. But Chanyeol is diligent, clever, charming. He slips into the cracks left by their missing members after Yifan’s betrayal, soon coming across the radar of one of the inner circle, Zhang Yixing.

 

Yixing is treated with suspicion by the sheer circumstance of his nationality, which Chanyeol knows is ridiculous. But it makes him ripe for manipulation, happy to teach an eager young upstart like himself with stars in his eyes. It is their immediate camaraderie that sparks it all for him, and saving his life from an assassination attempt fires him into glitzy parties instead of backwater dive bars. Champagne instead of cheap beer.

 

This is how Chanyeol finds himself cautiously entering an abandoned warehouse down by the docks, the eeriness of the quiet enough to set him on edge. He can barely see a thing, squinting under a single bulb that casts a small pool of light upon a concrete floor. He gulps. This is the kind of place in movies where undercover cops get tortured and thrown in the Han river to wash up days later, bloated and unrecognisable.

 

“Don’t you know better than to enter a room unarmed?”

 

The click of the safety is deafening in the proceeding silence and Chanyeol feels a cold wave wash over him as he knows with a sudden certainty that there is a gun to the back of his head. He squeezes his eyes shut and counts to five. “We’re all friends here, aren’t we? No need for that. Besides, who says I’m unarmed?”

 

Suddenly there’s a hand reaching into the waistband of his jeans, cold skin against his back making him jerk. He spins when he’s suddenly bereft of a weapon and comes face to face with the unexpected. “Oh,” falls from his lips unbidden, struck by the face before him. It is not the type of face he would have picked for a ruthless killer, all wide dark eyes and soft lips. Still, there’s something chilling about those unblinking eyes that pin him to the spot, intensely captivating. As if he’s calculating the exact way he would like to pick Chanyeol apart. He shivers.

 

Shaking himself from the spell, he holds out a hand. “Park Chanyeol, at your service. You must be Kyungsoo.”

 

Kyungsoo says nothing, staring at the proffered appendage like it has personally offended him. Then he stalks off into the darkness, leaving Chanyeol to scamper after the sound of his footsteps. The flick of a light switch has him blinking into another room, bare but for a table in the centre and a slim laptop. The light flickers and then settles, leaving him feeling more and more like he’s stepped into a horror movie.

 

“Is there a reason for this place?” he muses. At Kyungsoo’s look, he raises his palms. “Not that it’s not fine, it’s just – I mean – it’s a little grungy, isn’t it?”

 

“No cops to sniff around here.”

 

 _Ah._ Chanyeol titters, wishing he didn’t sound nervous. It seems Kyungsoo is keen on getting down to business, already bent over his laptop, the light washing him in an unnatural glow that highlights the slope of his cheekbones.

 

“I brought a printout of their layout.” He reaches into his bag and spreads out the bird’s eye view of their rival’s warehouse. “Seems all the entrances are guarded.” He points to each mark on the map.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t even look at him when he says, “What do you know about the Goemul?”

 

“Honestly? Nothing. Just that they’re encroaching on our territory. Trying to sell a Kokobop knock-off.”

 

“Kim Hyungsoo used to rule his territory with an iron fist,” says Kyungsoo softly, still looking at the screen. “When he died it all went to a shit for a while and no one heard from them. Recently they seem to have sorted out their little succession crisis and now they appear to be looking to make their name known again.”

 

“You don’t like them.”

 

Kyungsoo snorts. “They’re the enemy, of course I don’t.” Finally, he drags his eyes up to meet Chanyeol’s, dark pools in the muted light. “They’re unpredictable… wild. Other new groups tend to be scrappy and desperate but they fall in line easy enough. Hyungsoo’s boys are different.”

 

Chanyeol frowns. “If they’re like the rest of us, they’re just looking to make business. There must be something they want.”

 

“We don’t bargain with imposters, Chanyeol.” His tone brooks no arguments.

 

“Alright, then. What’s your plan?”

 

“I need to make a perimeter check of this building to find out what kind of security they have but they’ll find me out right away if I go. I need a new face to do it. Someone they don’t know.”

 

“You want me to spy?”

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

“No, not at all.” Chanyeol smiles at him but Kyungsoo looks away. _I certainly have a lot of experience at it._ “Even so, I think I’ll look a bit odd, wandering around an industrial estate on my own at night.”

 

Kyungsoo looks contemplative. “I already have an idea.”

 

*

 

Chanyeol doesn’t tell Siwon about Kyungsoo. He would only pull him from the job and he’s come too far now to back out just as the iron is heating up. He’s so close to worming his way into the inner circle. If he can just crack the fortress that is Do Kyungsoo, he thinks he’ll have it in the bag. Then Exo’s secrets, their members, their ventures, will all be known to him. Then he’ll be able to slay the giant from the inside.

 

He has very few meetings with his handler. It’s too much of a risk and now that he’s becoming someone to take notice of, he knows he’s going to be watched more. Taking a bus and then a train out of town probably won’t make a difference, but he knows how to shake a tail as he makes his way to a rundown shopping centre in a grey hovel of a district far from the hotbed of the centre. Stopping at a sunglasses kiosk, he peruses the cheap plastic frames as if he’s contemplating buying, even trying on a few pairs to sell the ruse. Just in case. It always pays to be cautious.

 

“Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

 

Chanyeol tries not to jump at the rumble of a familiar voice behind him. He doesn’t turn. “Things have been getting pretty interesting lately.”

 

“How so?”

 

“I’m getting somewhere.” He slips on a pair of glasses, turning his face this way and that before shaking his head and putting them back. “I’m learning all kinds of things.”

 

“You’ve met some of the men we talked about?”

 

“Yes.” He leaves it at that. Names are dangerous, even in a place like this.

 

“How about Suho. Have you met him yet?”

 

“No, I’m not that far yet but… I think I’ve been given a test. If I can prove my loyalty, I think I’ll be able to get it all. Even his identity.”

 

Siwon coughs and he risks glancing at him out the corner of his eye. “I hope you’re being careful. This is all happening very fast.”

 

It doesn’t feel fast. It’s been long months of constant pretending he’s someone else, to the point that he’s beginning to forget that he isn’t the scrappy young criminal, ambitious for more power and responsibility. More money. Maybe this is what Donghae andd Leeteuk spoke about, before. Maybe he should be worried but he isn’t. He’s like a bloodhound with a scent, salivating at the mouth. A few more months is all he needs. Nothing in the scope of his life.

 

“We might not be able to meet for a while.”

 

Siwon’s brows furrow. “Yes, I imagine not. Good luck, Chanyeol. Keep your head.”

 

With that last warning they depart ways and Chanyeol almost forgets they met at all.

 

*

 

Kyungsoo’s idea turns out be Byun Baekyun, yet another name that Chanyeol can scratch from his list. Bright, effervescent, flirtatious, Baekyun and Chanyeol hit it off instantly, to what appears to be Kyungsoo’s chagrin. The two of them chatter incessantly on their way to one of Baekhyun’s clubs.

 

“You would just not believe what he’s like in real life. I think they make him stand on boxes because he isn’t any taller than me,” says Baekhyun loudly, winking at the security guards as they step aside to let them through.

 

“You’ve met him?” he blinks, thinking of his favourite artist being involved with Seoul’s mobsters. “I’ve always loved his music but I never imagined...”

 

“Oh, yeah. He’d never have gotten anywhere without a little sponsorship.”

 

Baekhyun winds his way through the throng of bodies with the confident air of the practised, pausing every two seconds to greet another person. He’s the life of the party – they all stop dancing to pay their respects to the king of the club – all cheeky grins and bellowing laughter. Following in his wake, he and Kyungsoo are two shadows amongst the flashing neon lights, simply more stone-faced members of his entourage in their eyes. It’s interesting, the way Baekhyun might as well be a celebrity here. In his own twisted way, he is the dark reflection of the idol he dresses as, pretty and charming and moulded into the character he’s supposed to be for the crowd.

 

Of course, it’s easy to forget when he’s laughing so hard at a joke muttered into his ear he feels tears squeeze from his eyes that Baekhyun is a despicable person, just like the rest of them. It soon becomes all too transparent when he’s led into a back room with some familiar faces – Yixing and Jongdae, the latter of whom Chanyeol has not interacted with yet – and sees a half-naked young woman in her underwear twirling around a pole. This place also doubles as a brothel, he knows. There are rooms upstairs, somewhere.

 

“Chanyeol,” calls Yixing, waving him over, “come sit.”

 

Baekhyun places a hand on his arm. “Don’t steal my man yet, you thief. We have to get him ready.”

 

“Come on, give us an hour. Where’s our drinks?”

 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at Yixing but he goes to find a server, leaving him alone. Until he remembers that Kyungsoo has been here the whole time, a lone shadow amongst the lights and debauchery. Sparing him a glance before he walks over to Yixing’s table, the man appears to look uncomfortable, brows drawn and mouth pursed. He doesn’t really strike Chanyeol as the party type.

 

As soon as he slides onto plush leather a drink is plunked down on the table beside him. The whole place reeks of booze; he can smell it on Yixing’s breath as he leans in. “Good to see you’re making friends. Hey, Kyungsoo.”

 

Kyungsoo nods, looking far too tense for the setting.

 

“Chanyeol this is Jongdae, a good friend.” The man with curly hair nods at him, eyes sweeping him up and down over his drink.

 

Chanyeol grins, sinking into his character. “Are all your friends this good looking, Yixing? Are you trying to start a collection?”

 

Yixing hollers as Jongdae sniggers. “Oh, he prefers men!” He leans in conspirationally. “You’re in luck – Jongin’s just about to come on. Our Kyungsoo likes Jongin, don’t you?”

 

Chanyeol eyes him curiously at this information but he scowls at Yixing and retreats into himself, shoulders hunched. Tucking this information into the back of his mind for later, he finds his attention stolen by a lithe man in an unbuttoned silk shirt walking across the floor. Every step is fluid, captivating, and he hasn’t even done anything yet, but there’s a dancer’s grace to the way he walks that makes Chanyeol wonder how he ended up here, nothing but flesh on display for a row of greasy and dangerous men.

 

Jongin relieves the girl of her duty and swings up onto the pole, twisting around it with such ease Chanyeol feels his mouth fall open. The muscles of his chest ripple beneath red lights, silk flying around him as he makes a series of beautiful poses. Despite the nature of his show, there’s a sense of story there, something about his expression sombre despite the sensual music that thrums over the speakers. The room almost seems to narrow down to that singular stage and the boy upon it.

 

Suddenly coming back to himself, Chanyeol drags his eyes away feeling slightly disgusted with himself. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Kyungsoo staring at a ring of alcohol on the table shining in the lights, very deliberately not looking at Jongin. Interesting. Does he like him, perhaps? With his lean physique and pretty face, he could imagine Jongin has probably turned more than a few heads. Is Kyungsoo afraid of his sexuality, or simply human contact altogether? It’s mere speculation on Chanyeol’s part but the need to know simmers within him as the show drags on and Kyungsoo doesn’t look up once.

 

Then, as the music is winding down and another song, faster and dirtier takes it place, those dark eyes snap up to him with a question in them and he swallows. It takes him a long beat before he reaches for his drink, the weight of Kyungsoo’s gaze sinking into him headier than the alcohol. He’s relieved when Jondgae breaks their staring with a comment about a job in China and he quickly joins in the conversation, picking up tidbits he can about Jongdae’s work to note down for later. Even after the song finishes he can still feel Kyungsoo’s gaze on him and it takes every scrap of willpower not to look back. He has a job to do.

 

After the show finishes and Jongin disappears, Baekhyun resurfaces, first to make conversation with Jongdae that Chanyeol can’t hear over the pounding bass of the music, the two of them leaning in to whisper into one another’s ears. Then Baekhyun is sliding out of his seat and leading him towards a back room; a cool, blessed relief against the sticky heat of the lounge.

 

“I was planning on using Joy,” Baekhyun muses, looking him up and down, “but Jongdae mentioned that you preferred our Nini. Oh, don’t make that expression Soo, that boy can turn anyone towards men.”

 

Chanyeol looks between them, feeling trapped and not knowing how to get out of it. Kyungsoo’s expression is thunderous in contrast to the playful smirk on Baekhyun’s face and Chanyeol has to wonder how this group has lasted so long without murdering each other. _There is Yifan’s betrayal,_ he reminds himself. It’s a name forbidden to the lips of the members, only spoken of with hushed epithets like ‘that bastard’ and ‘you know who’. Somehow, this group has survived the odds to emerge on top of the cut throat world that is Seoul’s seedy underbelly. They must have survived somehow.

 

“Ah, here he comes!” Baekhyun exclaims, clapping his hands together as Jongin appears, this time clad in jeans and a hoody. Even in simple clothes he’s devastatingly handsome and he approaches with a shy smile, glancing coyly at him in a way that tells Chanyeol exactly what kind of work he’s used to.

 

“Kyungsoo was concerned about your cover so we thought you could use a little help when you spy on the warehouse,” says Baekhyun.”

 

Chanyeol raises a brow. “Is he good at spying?”

 

“You’d be surprised what you can learn about a man by having him in your bed,” says Jongin quietly and he flushes, taken aback.

 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “Jongin is to be part of your cover. You’re both young, horny, looking for somewhere quiet for a quick fuck.” Chanyeol is no stranger to coarse language as an officer but in this context it makes him cringe inside. “Security will pay you no mind and you’ll be able to get close enough to see how many guards they have and what their rotation is like. Not that it should be a problem for Kyungsoo,” he adds, saccharine sweet and Kyungsoo glares at him again.

 

Chanyeol nods. It makes sense – he can see why he’s ideal for this considering his face is unknown – but it doesn’t shake the uneasiness in his gut when he looks at Jongin. How does Jongin feel about him pretending to feel him up just so they can go and slaughter some guards? More to the point, how does _Chanyeol_ feel about it?

 

He can sense he has come upon a threshold; a turning point for his undercover career and his morals as a cop. If he succeeds, and sheds light on their rival’s security, he knows with the certainty of someone who has read each of their files backwards that lives will be taken in the fallout. Lives, with possible lovers and children and siblings as collateral. Can he in good conscience walk into this, knowing what he is making himself a part of? Will it pay off in the long run, in terms of lives spared, if he helps take Exo down?

 

Chanyeol doesn’t know the answer. He has no choice but to plough on.

 

“Alright,” he says, summoning his easy grin, “let’s get down to business, then.”

 

*

 

“It doesn’t look like there’s a lot of activity,” he says, putting down the binoculars.

 

“They don’t rotate the guards much,” Jongin agrees. “Then again, I think a lot of their men left them in the fallout after Hyungsoo died. Not all men react well to young leadership.”

 

Chanyeol glances at him out of the corner of his eye, profile lined in soft light from the street lamp outside. They’re holed up in a car given to him by Baekhyun, still some ways from the warehouse they’re investigating, and he can’t help but be curious at how much a man who seemed like a simple dancer seems to know about reconnaissance.

 

“What?” says Jongin, “Surprised?”

 

“A little.” He smiles despite himself. “Does Baekhyun normally have you do these sorts of things?”

 

“Now and then. It can be useful, sometimes. Men tend to talk more when they’re thinking with their dick.”

 

Chanyeol snorts. “Don’t you wish for something, uh, more?”

 

Jongin smiles but he’s still looking out the window. “This is more. I wasn’t always with them, you know. Before that I…” His expression falls, lips pressing tight. “I wasn’t in the best place. Baekhyun takes care of his own. He makes sure we’re well looked after and that there’s always security to stop us from getting hurt. These days I’m being trusted with more.” He gestures to his binoculars.

 

Chanyeol wants to protest but he knows the risks exposing himself. Instead he keeps quiet and allows Jongin to fill the silence. Of all the things he’s learned about needling secrets from others, the weight of silence has to be the most important. People always feel inclined to break it with noise.

 

“I was young and impressionable, just looking for a way to survive. But the man I used to work for didn’t care what happened to us. I could come away black and blue and he’d barely blink. As afraid as I was, I just didn’t know how to walk away.” Jongin laughs; a soft, brittle sound.

 

Something in Chanyeol’s gut clenches at the dark expression in his eyes. “What happened? How did you end up here?”

 

“Kyungsoo. I had been beaten within an inch of my life and left in an alley to die. I honestly thought I would and regretted that I hadn’t walked away. I wanted to live so much, you know? Then just as I thought it was all over I saw the face of – of an angel.” Chanyeol tries not to laugh at the idea of Kyungsoo, notorious hitman to the mob, as an angel.

 

“When I woke up I was safe in one of Baekhyun’s places. I found out later that Kyungsoo had killed the man who hurt me. He gutted the man who – the one who controlled me and burned the entire place down. I owe them both my life.”

 

Was it some kind of fucked up sense of obligation that inspired such fealty, or did it run deeper? Perhaps even gangsters had their own warped kind of morality. Jongin’s words troubled him but he couldn’t place his finger on exactly why. Perhaps because up until now he had assumed Kyungsoo a cold and chaotic killer, without any empathy left within him. To hear Jongin’s story was to suggest something different.

 

Then again, maybe Kyungsoo just did whatever he felt like with no rhyme or reason at all. _No, he’s too methodical,_ his brain protests.

 

“Chanyeol?”

 

“Yeah?” he snaps to, meeting Jongin’s concerned gaze with a slight flush at being caught unawares. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he says with real feeling.

 

Jongin nods, turning back to the window. “Should we try for a closer look?”

 

“Right. Yes, we should.”

 

Sucking in a deep breath, he steps out into the cool night air, preparing himself. It’s been a long time since his last relationship and even then he hadn’t really been the type to creep about dark industrial estates with a young pretty thing latched onto his arm. He feels awkward, unsure of where to put his hand. Jongin, on the other hand, acts to perfection. His white, white teeth flash in the street lights as he stumbles into Chanyeol like a drunk, laughter ringing out in the quiet.

 

They ramble past the iron link fence, stealing glances at the building, the guards and the security. As Jongin pushes him against the fence and sinks to his knees, Chanyeol’s stomach swooping even though he knows its fake, he notices the flashing red lights of two security cameras on each corner, and two guards patrolling the length of the building. One is already making his way over and he latches onto Jongin’s hair to sell the ruse.

 

“Mm, keep going,” he moans, feeling indecent. His traitorous cock twitches in his jeans. “Yeah, like that.”

 

Jongin is going all out, tugging at his zipper, and Chanyeol is more relieved than anything when the guard rattles the fence, the two of them jumping apart.

 

“Get out of here!” the guard snarls, rattling the fence even more violently. The gun tucked into his waistband is purposefully exposed, handle shining in the street light.

 

Holding up his hands, he steps back. “Sorry, man. Just looking for a quiet place, you know?” he says with a wink.

 

The man’s face twists in disgust. “Here isn’t the place. Fuck off or I’ll be forced to remove you myself.” Good, it seems he doesn’t suspect anything suspicious.

 

“We’re going!” Chanyeol grabs Jongin’s hand and they run. As they approach the car they pause to catch their breath, clutching their stomachs and meeting one another’s gaze. Something breaks and then he’s doubled over with laughter, intertwining with Jongin’s giggles.

 

Somehow it’s the most fun he’s had in a long time.

 

*

 

“The rotation is only every twelve hours. Two guards on each side of the building. There’s a camera on each corner,” he says, marking them with pen on the map, “but other than that it doesn’t seem to be too bad.”

 

Kyungsoo takes this in with a blank expression, loading up three handguns in quick succession. Chanyeol watches his fingers dance over the mechanism with practised ease.

 

“What do you need three for?” he says with a lightness he doesn’t feel.

 

Kyungsoo responds by handing him one and he takes it dumbly, staring at it as he thinks about how he’s incriminating himself simply by touching it. It doesn’t matter of course; he’s undercover. But it’s hard to stamp out police indoctrination.

 

“It’s for you, obviously.”

 

“Oh. Uh, do I need one?”

 

He’s met with Kyungsoo’s glare. “I expect you to have my six on this.”

 

“You got it, boss,” he says with a salute.

 

Kyungsoo only glowers even more. “Take this seriously. We have a mission here.”

 

“I know, I know.”

 

He manages to keep quiet as they ride through the city towards the outskirts on the other side of town. It’s not easy – Chanyeol likes to talk – and with the tension only building between them as Kyungsoo drives, he has to bite down on his lip to stop the urge to break it. By the time they pull up to the kerb one street from the warehouse he feels breathless from it, sweat beading on his temple in anticipation. He’s been part of police raids before, has known the intensity of waiting for action, but it’s nothing on the heart-thumping, hand shaking, live wire electricity of this.

 

“I’ll handle the guards,” Kyungsoo says as he screws on a silencer. “You take care of the cameras.”

 

It’s a relief, to know he’s not expected to kill. Even so, just by being here he’s complicit in Kyungsoo’s actions. It happens. Before Chanyeol accepted the mission Siwon made sure he spoke to older cops who had gone undercover, some of them for _years,_ and even still he hadn’t really understood their words of warning to him until now. They all had the same distant expression about their eyes, as if still stuck in that old skin. Chanyeol can see why. He’s already approaching this as a member of the Exo Group; as someone with stakes in this beyond selling his cover. When you create a second skin it’s still an extension of yourself. He’s still Chanyeol and yet he can’t act as Chanyeol the police officer always would.

 

What would Chanyeol the mobster do? He clutches his gun with slick hands and nods when Kyungsoo meets his eyes. Time to go.

 

Kyungsoo clings to the shadows like they are his domain. On their first meeting he had been surprised at his height, assuming it a handicap for him to overcome. Now, darting between pools of orange street light, Chanyeol feels too conspicuous, his limbs too clumsy. He lacks the control of Kyungsoo’s compact form, able to conceal himself with ease.

 

When they approach the fence from an angle, Kyungsoo hunkers down and pulls on his face mask to cover his nose and lips. With only his eyes exposed he looks even more striking, like some kind of grim reaper in the night. He pulls out wire cutters and chops away at the fence with quick, precise motions while Chanyeol keeps an eye on the patrolling guards in the distance. Soon he has made a hole big enough for them to shimmy through, into the grounds of the warehouse. His legs ache from crouching but there’s no time to catch breath. Kyungsoo’s dark eyes are ahead of him, like a hunting dog with a scent he’s slinking forward, gun at the ready.

 

After all the waiting the actual action happens in the blink of a moment. One of the guards spots movement and suddenly Kyungsoo is flinging himself to the ground, firing off a series of shots that are muffled through the silencer. The two guards fall like dominoes, leaving Chanyeol blinking, wondering exactly what happened.

 

“Cameras!” he spits and then he’s sprinting off towards the back door.

 

Chanyeol pulls up his hood and aims for both of the blinking lights, taking them out in two shots. He’d been an ace marksman back at the precinct but he’s not sure how to feel about the way he’s using his skills now.

 

Inside it takes him a moment to adjust to the gloom, the only light coming from cracks in the taped up windows and one flickering bulb overhead. Voices ring out, then cries as a drumbeat of gunshots follow, until he finds Kyungsoo standing in a room littered with bodies, barely breathing hard. He turns sharply at Chanyeol’s footsteps and he finds himself eye to eye with the barrel of a gun, heart stopping for one beat, until Kyungsoo lowers his gun and relaxes. Something about him in this moment is chilling and utterly breathtaking, like watching a predator in motion as he strides to a fridge and opens it.

 

“Have you got something to carry these?” he says calmly, as if he hasn’t just killed multiple people, turning back so that the soft glow of the fridge illuminates the curves of his face. His features are too soft to belong to a man so hard.

 

Chanyeol scrambles to pluck the bag off his shoulder and toss it to Kyungsoo, who starts loading it up with glass vials of coloured liquid. He holds one up to his face, turning it this way and that so that the blue liquid swirls in the light. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t seem to hear the rustling of one of the bodies. One of the men is still alive and he’s reaching for a weapon.

 

“Kyungsoo, he’s –” is all he manages before Kyungsoo whips an arm out and shoots the man in the head, body collapsing in a heap.

 

He doesn’t know why he’s relieved. He should be horrified at watching a man being killed right in front of him with all the casualness of someone who has been the cause of one too many, as if at this point it’s just daily routine. For Kyungsoo, it probably is. And yet, Chanyeol is glad he didn’t get hurt. He can’t really explain it. He just is.

 

“Should we go now?” he says as Kyungsoo carefully pulls the straps of his backpack over his shoulders.

 

“One last thing.” There’s a bottle of something on the table – it’s too dark to see the label but he smells alcohol when Kyungsoo sloshes it over the room. The _snick_ is all the warning he gets before Kyungsoo’s face is suddenly illuminated by a matchstick, eyes impossibly dark. “Get ready.”

 

Then he tosses it onto the table, a whoosh resulting in a trail of crackling flame that races down to the floor. Chanyeol turns and runs after Kyungsoo, the two of them tearing towards the car. His heart is still thumping by the time they pull up at one of Exo’s many hideouts across the city and he swears he can hear sirens somewhere in the distance.

 

“Chanyeol?” he says.

 

His snap to Kyungsoo’s. “Yep. Yeah, I’m coming,” he says, voice a little hoarse.

 

They enter a dingy looking building, Chanyeol following Kyungsoo’s lead until he ends up in a basement decked out like a lab, equipment everywhere reminiscent of his high school science class, only grungier, and the smell much more pungent. A tall boy enters from a back room, pulling off a mask. “Did you get it?”

 

Kyungsoo passes him the backpack and he immediately begins to rifle through it. “This is Chanyeol,” he says after a beat. “Chanyeol, meet Sehun.”

 

Sehun barely glances his way. “I’m the chemist of Kokobop.”

 

Kyungsoo cuffs him over the head but something about the gesture is, dare Chanyeol say it, playful. “Don’t oversell yourself. Minseok designed Kokobop. Sehun just makes it.”

 

“You try making it then, hyung!” protests Sehun. “Why don’t I just leave all this for you?”

 

“Brat,” Kyungsoo mutters under his breath as he prods Chanyeol out the door.

 

“What now?” he asks once they’re out the door, relishing fresh air after the stuffiness of Sehun’s makeshift laboratory.

 

“Now you go home.”

 

Chanyeol turns to look at Kyungsoo, his expression firm but not harsh. “Go home. Get some rest.”

 

“Will we – will we work together again?”

 

Kyungsoo stares at him for a long time, his dark eyes shining with silver in the moonlight. Chanyeol feels hypnotised, locked under such a powerful gaze. He swears he sees the corner of Kyungsoo’s lips move but it could be his imagination. “Go home, Chanyeol.”

 

And then he’s off, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and stalking into the night. Chanyeol watches him go with a sigh, unsure how to describe the feeling running through him. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, he feels exhausted, limbs still trembling with his nerves. Unsure whether this mission was successful or not, he gives into the weariness and decides to leave the thinking to tomorrow.

 

Chanyeol goes home.

 

*

 

There’s no specific moment that makes Chanyeol want to join the police. It’s more like he leaves high school with decent grades. Not good enough for university but not abyssal, either. He doesn’t really have any direction beyond his love for music but he isn’t sure whether he can make money from it and money is something he desperately needs. More than anything, he needs a stable job so he can focus on writing his lyrics. Something that will pay the bills while he pursues his goal.

 

“Have you thought about the police?” says the employment counsellor when he visits her on one of his last days of school.

 

“I don’t know,” he says, but once the idea is in his head he can’t get it out. There’s a station nearby so he wouldn’t have to travel far. It could work out.

 

Even when he attends the induction, he’s not fully committed yet. It's just a job to him. Just a wage. But then something happens to turn it all around: it turns out Chanyeol is really good at his job. He’s good-natured and charming, can calm fights before they really even begin, can make people laugh with a simple quip and his signature grin. He enjoys late night stakeouts and the thrill of being given greater responsibility. Before he knows it, he’s passed a year, and then another, and he can’t imagine his life without it, the office camaraderie and being able to get up close and personal with the city of Seoul every day. His city.

 

“I’m impressed with your work so far, Chanyeol,” says Siwon, his team leader. He tries not to burst with happiness at the praise. “My boss is trying to run a new operation and your name came up. Why don’t you come into my office for a talk?”

 

And the rest is, as they say, history.

 

*

 

“Yo, Chanyeol, get your ass over here.”

 

This is the first Chanyeol hears from Baekhyun in the three days that follow his mission with Kyungsoo. It’s been three days of pacing his box of a flat, anxiety wearing him thin, and now it’s six in the damn morning and he wants to sleep.

 

“Do you know what time it is?” he grumbles, looking at his alarm clock. “And where is ‘here’ anyway?”

 

Baekhyun sighs the sigh of the put out. “I’ve sent over my driver, you whiny baby. He’ll pick you up and take you.”

 

Sure enough, when he pokes his head past ratty curtains there’s a sleek black car parked in the street, engine humming. He feels his heart quicken as he stumbles around his room, looking for something presentable to wear. He settles for smart casual and hopes his long black coat is slick enough not to offend anyone if he doesn’t bother with a suit, but he truly has no idea where he’s going or what’s about to happen. For all he knows he’s been found out and is about to meet an untimely demise at the bottom of the Han River.

 

By the time the car slows to a halt, halfway across a sleepy city, he finds himself at a lavish country house style mansion with gardens of neatly trimmed hedges and bright green grass. He steps out and looks around, confused, but the driver says nothing so he figures he must be in the right place, at least. He has always known the Exo Group had money but this is something else.

 

Old money, he thinks, as he steps into a grand foyer, all gleaming marble floors, polished wood trimmings and fancy paintings on the walls that look wider than the entire expanse of his flat. Chanyeol feels horribly out of place, like he might dirty anything he touches, so he decides to remain where he is, wishing desperately that someone would come and find him.

 

He’s not sure how long he remains like that before a voice echoes in the wide open space. “Ah, Chanyeol, you made it.”

 

Whipping around, he sees Jongdae stride through an archway as if he owns the place, greeting him with a grand sweeping gesture of his hand. “Quite the place, isn’t it?”

 

“Quite,” he agrees, wondering how to ask what he’s doing there.

 

“We’re meeting upstairs. Come on, I’ll show you.”

 

“What is this place?” he asks, craning his head at the luxurious décor as he follows Jongdae up a marble staircase.

 

“The home of our illustrious leader, of course. He’s dying to meet you.” When Jongdae smiles his cheeks dimple and his eyes crease. It’s nice. It helps put him at ease. Especially now that he knows he’s finally going to be meeting Suho.

 

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

 

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to. Just through here,” Jongdae says, pointing to a door.

 

It takes him through into a large boardroom with a long table at the centre, sunlight streaming in from a series of large windows that reveal the beautiful details of the gardens below and give the space a comfortable, airy feel. Around the table sit the faces he would expect – Minseok, picking at his nails; Baekhyun slumped over and chatting to Yixing on his right; Sehun playing with his phone; and then Kyungsoo sitting straight-backed in his chair, a gap between he and the rest. At the top of the table the seat is empty. Suho’s seat, he imagines.

 

A moment’s hesitation is all he allows himself before he strides in as if he belongs there – they believe it so he will – and slides into the seat next to Kyungsoo. Dark brows rise at this, as if Kyungsoo is in disbelief that anyone would choose to sit next to him, but Chanyeol simply flashes him a grin and leans back in his seat. “Looks like I’ve been invited to the big boy’s table, huh?”

 

“This is about our mission,” says Kyungsoo and then the conversation dies.

 

Before he really has time to prepare himself the door swings open and a man in a tweed suit paired with glasses walks in. Immediately all members at the table straighten to attention but they don’t look tense and Jongdae even waves as the man sits at the head of the table, pushing glasses up the bridge of his nose. He is strikingly handsome, Chanyeol thinks. More like a model or an actor than the leader of one of the biggest outfits in Asia. His face is also vaguely familiar, like he’s seen him on a magazine somewhere.

 

“Morning, everyone. Sorry about the early start,” he says softly, genially, “I just got in from Japan. How are you all doing?”

 

“You could have said you would be back today. I’d have met you at the airport,” whines Jongdae, pouting at him.

 

“Or told us what you were doing in Japan,” adds Baekhyun.

 

The man sighs a long-suffering but ultimately fond sigh. “Yes, but you were all busy and I didn’t want to distract you.”

 

Chanyeol blinks. It’s not what he was expecting. At all. This man doesn’t look like he could hurt a rabbit, let alone a human being. Surely this cannot be Suho. Suho is the shadowy presence behind the ruthless criminal empire that is the Exo Group; he cannot smile fondly and dress like a university professor. Who is this man? What is happening?

 

“First of all, I should greet our newest member to attend one of these meetings.” His eyes flick to Chanyeol’s and he smiles warmly. “My name is Kim Junmyeon. I am the closest thing the Exo Group has to a leader, I suppose, but we like to make our decisions together, don’t we, boys?”

 

“More like Junmyeon’s too soft to do anything properly so he leaves us to do his dirty work,” says Baekhyun and they all laugh.

 

“You’re free to deal with the organisational side of things any day, Baekhyun. I think I’d welcome the rest to enjoy partying for a few nights.”

 

“Burn,” says Sehun, not once looking up from his phone as Baekhyun pouts.

 

“Uh,” blurts Chanyeol, “it’s nice to meet you.” Junmyeon nods in acknowledgement.

 

“I believe you helped Kyungsoo burn down a warehouse belonging to one of our competitors.”

 

Chanyeol nods, still feeling dazed. “I did.”

 

He turns to Minseok. “You looked into the drug samples they brought back?”

 

Minseok frowns. “I did. Thanks for giving it to Sehun, by the way. Like he’d know what to do with it,” he says, ignoring Sehun’s protests, the boy finally looking up from his phone. “But the drug – the X drop, as they call it – isn’t really like Kokobop at all. It has similar hallucinogenic properties but the chemicals that make it up are different. I’m actually not sure what they use as the core component. It’s strange. But I don’t think it’s a copy.”

 

Suho nods. “While I was in Japan I got some info from one of my contacts.” He clicks a button on his phone and the wall behind him lights up with a projection from a machine on the ceiling. “I’ve got the run down of the Goemul’s current major players so you know who to look out for.”

 

“ _Do_ we need to be wary though? Are you sure this isn’t just because they’ve been linked to Namjoon’s gang?” says Yixing, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

 

“If they’re intruding onto our territory, then yes,” says Minseok.

 

Chanyeol watches the discussion unfold, wondering if he should be taking notes. He knows Namjoon must be a reference to Kim Namjoon, notorious leader of the other most powerful gang in Korea, known colloquially as Bangtan. Their rise from unknowns to the Exo Group’s bigget competitor is unheard of and, if his information is correct, largely due to Namjoon’s genius and ambition. The rivalry between both gangs is well-known to the cops, having started many a bloody turf war across Seoul and beyond. If he gets embroiled into a gang war between Exo and Bangtan, he’s not sure what could become of him.

 

“Let’s keep ourselves prepared,” says Junmyeon. “If it comes down to it, I fear they will choose to align themselves with Namjoon.”

 

A tall, muscular man appears on the wall behind them. “This is Son Hyunwoo, better known as Shownu. As far as I can tell he’s the current leader, although I believe he holds a role similar to mine. He is the foundation for their inner circle but he is not their driving force.”

 

Chanyeol feels the weirdest sense of deja vu, like he’s back at the precinct as they go over the members of Exo. It’s strange, how similar both situations are, making him feel momentarily disorientated. It only heightens the feeling he’s been feeling for a while, like he’s not sure what’s real and what’s not anymore.

 

The image changes to a smaller man with reddish-brown hair. “The one to watch for is Yoo Kihyun. He was the former right hand of Kim Hyungsoo before he was assassinated and has slipped into that role once more. Don’t be fooled by his appearance, he’s utterly ruthless. My source informs me he is close to Min Yoongi, the right hand of Kim Namjoon. He is why I fear their loyalty. When it comes down to it, their friendship will mean we cannot trust them.”

 

He flicks through more images and more names that he tries to commit to memory, already drawing out the chart in his mind with their names and positions. Their territory, their methods, the activities they partake in. The information he is receiving in one meeting has his heart pounding, hands shaking so much he has to clench them tight beneath the table.

 

He almost misses it in his distraction. Almost. But he can’t stop the sharp intake of breath as a familiar face pops onto the screen. The narrow eyes, the dimples in the man’s smile. He knows this man.

 

“Chanyeol?” says Junmyeon as all heads turn to him.

 

Pinned by their gazes, he suddenly feels claustrophobic despite the airiness of the room, like the walls are closing in on him. “That’s Lee Jooheon,” he murmurs. “I know him. Knew him. A long time ago. When we were kids.” He says no more than that, not wanting to mention that they went to high school together for fear they would look too deep into his past. “I never knew he...” he gestures, to represent the general business.

 

“Jooheon is one of the most feared men in Seoul. He’s their resident attack dog and he’s completely mad,” says Baekhyun, leaning on his hand. His eyes are alight with curiosity. “You were friends?”

 

“I mean we weren’t _close_ ,” he says, the intensity of Kyungsoo’s stare make his skin prickle. “But yeah, I guess you could say that.” It’s hard to picture the bubbly child that Jooheon was grow up to be a killer. _But look at me,_ he thinks.

 

Desperate to get the attention off of him, he says, “Why don’t you let me talk to him?” Beside him he senses Kyungsoo stiffen. “I’m sure I can find out why they’re intruding on your – on our territory.”

 

Junmyeon seems to think before he nods. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. I’d rather talk things out before I resort to violence.”

 

Minseok sighs at this statement. When Junmyeon raises his brows at him he throws his hands up. “Sure. It’s best to use every advantage we have anyway. Maybe this connection could keep them neutral if it does come to war.”

 

“Then it’s settled. Chanyeol will speak to Jooheon and we can draw the line once we find out where they stand. Now, onto other business. From my contacts within the police force, I’ve heard a rumour about who will be taking over as chief...”

 

He knows he should be listening, especially when they’re talking about the police, but he’s distracted by Kyungsoo fidgeting next to him, and he mind is still stuck in the past, of warm summers playing baseball with the neighbourhood kids. On contemplating how nice kids end up in boardrooms, discussing drugs and assassination like it’s nothing. On how men like Kyungsoo, so soft and intense, end up as cold-blooded killers.

 

The rest of the meeting passes in a blur and then he’s suddenly following the rest of the members out, sucking in a breath of relief. He had been even more nervous that he had realised, and his body still feels shaky from the crash in adrenaline at being free, if only for the moment. As he’s leaving, he hangs back to catch Kyungsoo.

 

“You’re angry.”

 

“No, I’m not angry.”

 

“You’re certainly not happy.”

 

Kyungsoo arches a brow when he finally looks at him. “You’re stupid. Naive. Well-intentioned maybe, but definitely stupid.”

 

Chanyeol finds himself grinning despite himself. “Wow, Kungsoo, why don’t you tell me how you really feel, huh?”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Walking into someone else’s territory – into Jooheon’s territory… It doesn’t matter who you thought you knew, Chanyeol. He’s not that boy anymore.”

 

Chanyeol blinks, surprised enough that Kyungsoo gets to the door and he has to scamper after him. “Are you saying you care about what happens to me, Soo?”

 

Kyungsoo gives him one last look before he leaves, sliding into a car that’s idling in the drive. Chanyeol watches it pull off with a strange fluttering in his gut. One he knows he should be worried about. But he pushes it down deep and takes the stairs down to his own ride. As he gets in, he takes one last look at the grand manor house and shakes his head. _What have you got yourself into?_

 

Only time will tell.

 

*

 

It’s not hard to get in touch with Jooheon when he has the contacts he has at his disposal. If he wasn’t supposed to despise them, Chanyeol would certainly marvel at the vast network the Exo Group control at their fingertips. It gets harder and harder to remind himself that this isn’t forever. That none of it is real.

 

So it’s with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity that he enters a bar far from Exo’s territory, nice in a rustic sort of way that’s becoming more and more trendy lately. A brash song thumps over the speakers, adding to the atmosphere of the dim mood lighting. He almost feels like he’s in a film, the scene where the undercover cop walks into the lion’s den.

 

“Chanyeol! Is that really you?”

 

Then suddenly his anxiety floods away, leaving him numb with nostalgia. Across the bar sits a familiar man, wide grin splitting his face as he waves him over. Jooheon even slides out of his stool to clap him on the back. “Long time no see, man,” he says and nods at the bartender to get him a drink.

 

Dazed, Chanyeol smiles back. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it? I never thought we’d meet again like this.”

 

“You’re telling me.”

 

He’s introduced to a handsome man at Jooheon’s side by the name of Minhyuk. He squints at Chanyeol with obvious suspicion but greets him with a nod, turning back to his drink as Jooheon launches into a story about their childhood, voice loud enough to be heard over the thumping bass. “Those were the days.”

 

Four drinks into reminiscing and Chanyeol is feeling warm and hazy with booze. Jooheon is cackling, leaning in his shoulder as he sways on his stool. He registers somewhere in the back of his mind that maybe this was not the point of his visit but he can’t bring himself to care. Maybe it’s the feeling of something familiar – a connection to his real life after so long living a fake one – but for the first time in a long time he feels himself just relax and let go.

 

So he’s surprised that it’s at this point Jooheon decides to talk. “You said wanted to talk business?” Despite how much alcohol he has imbued his eyes are sharp; alert, as he leans over the bar and stares at Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol rubs his thumb over the rim of his glass, remembering all he’s heard about the man Jooheon is now. “We need to talk boundaries, man. You guys have been wandering into our territory. Suho’s not happy.”

 

“You could have spoken to me before burning down our warehouse,” Jooheon pouts and Chanyeol freezes, but he doesn’t look mad.

 

“I didn’t know it was you. But I’m here now because I don’t want us to be enemies, you know?”

 

“I don’t want that either!” exclaims Jooheon, raising his glass. “We should be friends!”

 

Chanyeol laughs and clinks their glasses together.

 

“Can’t believe you’re with the Exo Group. Kihyun won’t be happy that I’m here,” he mumbles. He sits up, wobbling a little on his stool before he steadies. “I like you, so I’ll tell you straight. Kihyun doesn’t trust Exo.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He thinks you guys assassinated the old man. Said he saw your – what’s the little guy’s name again?”

 

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol murmurs, feeling his blood run cold.

 

Jooheon snaps his fingers. “Right. He thinks he did it. There’s not a lot of good feeling for your boys here, Chanyeol.” He says it sadly, taking a swig of his drink.

 

Chanyeol bites his lip. His instinct is to deny it but he can’t. The thing is, he knows Kyungsoo to be fully capable of it, and who knows what had been his orders at that time. He’s afraid of what he’ll find if he asks. But it doesn’t really make sense. Why rile up rivals that have never been a problem for them until now? What would they possibly have to gain from such a thing?

 

“If I talk to him. If I find out he didn’t do this – do you think you could convince your boys to stay clear of our territory?”

 

Jooheon tilts his head and thinks. “Can’t say for certain. But we don’t want trouble anymore than you do. Well, unless they deserve it.” His grin turns chilling and Chanyeol leans back a little.

 

“Alright. I’m going to head. Let’s keep in touch, yeah?” he says and finds he means it. Jooheon is his one connection between his current life and his old one. He feels strangely compelled to cling to it.

 

“Definitely!”

 

As he’s walking out he’s stopped by Jooheon calling out his name. In the bar lighting his eyes sparkle. “What happened to you, man? Last I heard you were going to be a police officer.”

 

Chanyeol tenses and he takes a moment to compose himself before he spins with a grin. He plays it off with a shrug. “What can I say? You never know the path you’ll take. I remember when we said we were going to start a hip-hop crew.”

 

Jooheon’s laughter chases him out the door as he desperately tries to calm his racing heart.

 

*

 

After successful deals, be it arms or drugs or various other vices that the group want to try their hands at, the members usually celebrate afterwards by piling into one of Baekhyun’s many clubs across the city. Chanyeol has to admit, there’s a certain kind of thrill to walking up to the entrance and having the bouncer nod him through. He’s led straight to the VIP lounge as if he’s some kind of idol celebrity he dreamed of being as a kid. A voice in the back of his head reminds him this is not good. That he should not get attached to this feeling. But it’s rich and heady, warming him like the fine liquor he’s offered from pretty girls in high heels, smiling at him like he’s worth something.

 

Baekhyun is, as ever, the life of the party, his laughter filling up the room despite the thumping music playing over the club as he charms a gaggle of girls that swarm around him. Bodies grind together down below on the floor, lights flashing blue, green and red. Yixing and Jongdae play a game of cards, coins stacking up between them, and even a fancy Rolex watch, Chanyeol notices from his corner. Jumyeon hasn’t shown his face all night – according to Minseok he’s rarely involved in the less legitimate side of the business, but when looking around for something to occupy himself, he notices a familiar figure sitting by himself at the bar. No one dares approach him, making sure to stand several feet away if ordering a drink. It’s Kyungsoo.

 

“What are you drinking?”

 

Kyungsoo blinks, almost as if caught off guard. His smile turns wry as he holds it up to the light, a rich amber in colour. “Their most expensive whiskey, I believe. Since it’s on Baekhyun tonight.”

 

Chanyeol snorts and flags down the bartender. “One for me and another for him, please.” The man nods, shooting a glance at Kyungsoo.

 

“Not much of a party guy, I see,” he says after a few beats of nothing but the music in the background. It’s got a catchy, energetic beat that has him tapping his finger.

 

“Don’t you have something better to be doing than sitting here and attempting conversation with me?” Kyungsoo says it with humour but his eyes are distant. The hair that had been shorn when they’d first met is growing in now. Chanyeol itches to run his hands over it.

 

“Aw, why would you say that? Maybe I just want to talk to you.”

 

Kyungsoo arches a brow. “What is it? There must be something you want.”

 

“Kyungsoo, you wound me,” he jokes, clutching his chest. At his companion’s appraising look he sighs, picking up his freshly poured glass only to plunk it down again on the bar top. “I did want to ask you something, actually. But that’s not why I’m here.”

 

When Kyungsoo says nothing more he leans onto the counter. “I spoke with Jooheon last night and I found out why they’ve been bothering us lately. He said that – he said they think you were the one to kill their leader.” The words spill out of him in a rush. “I’m sure if you did you had your reasons but–”

 

“I didn’t do it.”

 

“–and it’s not really my place to judge but – what? Oh, you didn’t. You didn’t,” he brightens. “But why were you spotted there, that night?”

 

Kyungsoo’s mouth tightens. “I was investigating.” For a long time it’s all he says, eyes on the floor as he seems to wrestle with himself. When he finally looks up, the depth of his brown eyes in the neon lighting take Chanyeol’s breath away. “You have probably heard by now, about Yifan’s betrayal.”

 

Chanyeol nods, not trusting himself to speak.

 

“Another man who worked with us often, Zitao, well I suspected he was involved with Yifan. I followed him that night. I did not see it with my own eyes but I suspect he was the one to assassinate Hyungsoo.”

 

“Why would he do that?”

 

“He is an assassin for hire.”

 

He frowns. “Which means someone must have issued that hit. Do you think it could be…?”

 

“Yifan? It’s possible. But I’m not sure what he would stand to gain from it. This isn’t a nice world, Chanyeol. Nearly everyone wants everyone else dead. It could have been any number of people.”

 

“Still, if I can talk to Jooheon about this, it will help our standing with them.”

 

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him. “Why do you care so much about him? I thought you said you weren’t that close.”

 

Under such a scrutinising stare he feels himself sweat. “It’s hard to explain. I suppose the old connection just made me nostalgic. But I think it’s good to have allies. Especially if we’re heading for all out gang war like the others seem to think.”

 

Kyungsoo snorts, downing the last of his drink. Chanyeol watches his throat swallow. “It’s always war this, war that. It’ll never become anything but a few shoot outs and empty threats. It’s empty posturing but the truth is, Chanyeol, war isn’t good for business and in the end that’s all that matters.”

 

Chanyeol nods. He’s not sure about that. Maybe to Kyungsoo, who lives this kind of life, it’s nothing more than the daily grind. But to the civilians trying to live their lives, the ordinary citizens of Seoul who are caught in the crossfire, it’s a completely different story.

 

They fall quiet for a while, enjoying silent companionship as they nurse their drinks. The whiskey is definitely expensive; it goes down smooth with a smoky aftertaste that he savours. A few glasses in and he’s starting to feel the effects, limbs heavy. The song changes to something slower, more sensual. Almost unconsciously he begins to bob in his seat to the beat, feeling the rhythm swirl inside him like the liquor. Next to him, Kyungsoo hums low under his breath. Chanyeol doesn’t think he even realises until he must see him grinning over the rim of his glass at him.

 

“What?”

 

“I can tell you have a nice singing voice.”

 

Kyungsoo screws up his face. “How can you tell that? Stop leering at me.”

 

“Sorry,” he says, still grinning. “But it’s nice to see you like this. Enjoying the music. I used to think about becoming a musician.” Before he had grown up. Before he had been drawn to justice.

 

“I thought about that once, too,” Kyungsoo finally confesses, a small smile creeping onto his face. Chanyeol leans on his hand, enraptured. “But obviously it was not for me. Sometimes we’re just born to the wrong circumstances.”

 

“I’d like to hear you sing.”

 

Kyungsoo looks suddenly startled, eyes wide in the flashing lights. It could be seconds, it could be an eternity that they remain there simply staring at one another and Chanyeol feels himself flush. “I mean I play guitar. We could duet, you know?”

 

“I think my singing days are behind me.”

 

Chanyeol is about to protest when Baekhyun stalks up to the bar with Jongdae, the two of them laughing together. Baekhyun orders a tray of more drinks and throws an arm around Chanyeol’s neck. “Did you just make our Kyungsoo smile? I hardly believe my eyes.”

 

Kyungsoo is back to glaring and as much as Chanyeol likes Baekhyun he’s almost annoyed at having the moment ruined. But he’s not one to dwell so he leans into Baekhyun’s grip and grins. “Nice club.”

 

“Why don’t you come and enjoy yourself, then? I’m sure I can find you a few companions,” he waggles his brows and drags him off towards the VIP lounge.

 

He tries to protest but he has Baekhyun on one arm and Jongdae on the other, chatting incessantly in each ear. The last thing he sees is Kyungsoo’s small amused smirk as he’s dragged away and he waves. When Kyungsoo throws a half-hearted wave his way he feels his heart swell.

 

He’s definitely getting in too deep but he’s long lost the point of where to draw the line.

 

*

 

Things settle down for a while after Chanyeol talks to Jooheon again. The hit on his leader still lingers on the back of his mind but he finds himself more and more preoccupied as he’s gradually given more and more responsibilities, making his own deals and managing some of the lower levelled members like he has become the assistant director of some company. Organised crime is indeed organised. He finds it’s not that much different from legitimate companies, only he deals mostly in drugs and guns instead of stocks and shares.

 

Time flies by him and before he knows it it’s been months since he last spoke to Siwon. It feels like it was years ago. He feels like he sees his old life through a murky glass, warped and blurred. It’s like it happened so long ago that he barely remembers, even though he’s only been undercover for a year. He begins to forget he’s not a member of the mob, rather than a cop just pretending. Sometimes he goes a week at a time before it hits him, deep in the night when he’s startled awake by the thought and then he can’t get back to sleep, yawning at two am with the smell of brewing coffee in his kitchen. But it troubles him less and less each time. Maybe it’s a sign he should walk away now but he still feels like there’s more to learn. This can’t be all there is. It’s too simple. Too tame.

 

It’s only natural that as he’s starting to get comfortable, something happens to turn it all upside down again. It starts as normal, just a simple shipment of Kokobop to Hong Kong that he’s overseeing – by now a routine occurrence for him – when he spots Kyungsoo stalk into the shipping container, black coat flapping around him. Immediately he knows something is up. Kyungsoo never comes unless it’s his business to come and if it’s Kyungsoo’s business, well…

 

Chanyeol follows him as he marches up to one of the boys he has working for him, Jae, and punches him across the face. The boy staggers back and overbalances, collapsing in a heap on the floor, blood spurting from his nose. When he sees Kyungsoo – a figure in all black, face distorted in shadow, and stare hard enough to cut diamond – his eyes widen and he scoots back a few inches, lip quivering.

 

“Tie him up,” Kyungsoo commands and Chanyeol’s not sure who he’s talking to.

 

As two of the other boys scramble to tie Jae up, Chanyeol studies a seething Kyungsoo. “What’s going on here? What are you doing?”

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes flick to him and he feels a shiver run through him at how cold they are. Then he’s turning to command the remaining members. “Move the shipment! Now! Get it hidden before the cops get here.”

 

Chanyeol’s heart thumps. “Cops?”

 

“He’s a traitor,” Kyungsoo spits and he feels his stomach drop. “A mole.”

 

A mole. Just like Chanyeol. He’s a cop, working undercover, and he didn’t know because knowing could compromise either of the two of them. But still he wishes he had, if only so he could have been prepared for this. What is going to happen to him? What will Kyungsoo do? He can’t do anything, or he’ll blow his cover. But if he stands aside and does nothing, does that not make him every bit as criminal as the rest of them? Chanyeol worries at his lip as the members scramble about to get the drugs moved.

 

Kyungsoo is already disappearing and, utterly lost, he finds himself chasing after him. “What – what are you going to do?”

 

“I’m going to find out exactly who he is and who he’s working for. First I’ve got to get him out of here.”

 

“How do you know?” he asks, fearing the answer.

 

“This is the third job since he arrived that’s been intercepted. Junmyeon has contacts within the force and they alerted us before they could get us this time.”

 

Chanyeol gulps. It’s something he vaguely suspected but to have concrete proof that the mob have people on the inside only makes him sweat even more; a cold, creeping dampness that makes his shirt stick to his back and his stomach tangle in knots. He tries to quash the voice in his head screaming _they know, they know, they know._

 

It’s such a distraction he almost misses the look Kyungsoo throws him over his shoulder as he climbs into a black van. “Well? Are you coming?”

 

Numb, Chanyeol climbs into the passenger seat and they drive out into the city, chased by the distant wail of police sirens. He barely sees where they’re going, so caught up in his thoughts. By the time they pull into a small chicken restaurant in a dark alley somewhere north of the river he barely knows what he’s doing, stumbling dumbly out and following Kyungsoo. Two of their men offload a gagged and bound Jae, wrestling with his bonds. Chanyeol does his best not to meet his eyes. Maybe he knows about him – about who he really is. About what a coward he is, as he tries to tell himself it’s for his cover.

 

The man is dumped on a plastic chair and tied up in the underground basement; a dank cave of a room with dampness seeping into the walls and the stench of chicken wafting from the kitchens. It is a bleak way to die, Chanyeol thinks. And he knows without certainty that no one is coming to save this boy. All this time he’s thought himself the hero – the noble cop taking down the mob from the inside – but here he stands, quiet and shaking as Kyungsoo throws another punch.

 

His knuckles smash across the boy’s face and his head lolls. When he finally looks up, blood is dripping from his mouth and there’s a tooth on the floor.

 

“Who are you?” says Kyungsoo, his voice dangerously quiet. Overhead, a fan whirs.

 

He hits him again. Again. Until the boy’s eye is swollen. Chanyeol winces.

 

“Who do you work for?”

 

He has to hand it to the kid. His eyes are defiant as he glares up at Kyungsoo despite one being swollen nearly shut, a purple bruise forming around his lid and cheekbone. A few more hits and he begins to whimper, snuffling hard through a broken nose. Chanyeol doesn’t think he would have held up this long. And he’s had training on how to withstand torture.

 

Kyungsoo steps back, cracking his neck. He gestures to one of the men and they pass him over what looks to be a metal crowbar. Chanyeol’s stomach swoops.

 

“Kyungsoo...” he murmurs.

 

“It has to be done.” But Kyungsoo calmly walks up to the boy and crouches down so he can peer into his eyes. “I’ll ask you again.” He uses the crowbar to prop the boy’s chin up and Chanyeol can see the tear tracks shining on his cheeks. “Who do you work for? How were you able to sneak your way into our ranks?”

 

With the crowbar in his face the boy shivers and there’s defeat in his eyes. His shoulders slump, blood trickling from his mouth and nose, various cuts and bruises marring a once handsome face. “The man I work for has connections everywhere,” the boy says. “The old police chief is retiring and there’s a fight going on to see who will take over. I’m betting you won’t like who wins.” Through his broken teeth he manages a smirk before he bites down. His body shudders as if electrocuted and then his head sags forwards, going slack.

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen. “No, no. No!” He grabs the boy’s jaw and pries his mouth open, hissing at what he finds. Standing up, he drops the crowbar and peels the gloves from his hands. “Get rid of the body. Destroy any evidence.”

 

As the men rush to follow his commands, Kyungsoo pivots and stalks away, leaving Chanyeol behind in that dark dungeon of a room, still staring at the boy’s body in horror. He was just a kid, young and impressionable, doing the same hard, lonely job that Chanyeol is. For the first time he thinks he truly understands what they had meant, when some of his more experienced colleagues had warned him this endeavour would reap no rewards.

 

For the first time he feels like he can predict the future, for he feels like he’s staring at a forecast of his own in front of him, bloody and broken and way too young to die like this. Chanyeol finds himself utterly terrified.

 

*

 

In his panic he doesn’t even think about the risks when he frantically contacts Siwon. They meet in an old noodle bar with dim lighting, a baseball cap shadowing his eyes and a face mask covering his mouth. Just to fit in he orders something even though he can’t stomach a morsel, letting it cool in front of him as he plays a game on his phone with shaking hands.

 

“This was dangerous,” hisses Siwon as he slides onto a stool beside him. “Do you have news?”

 

“Yes. No. I mean, I just need to talk.”

 

Siwon must see something in his eyes because he nods and orders a meal. “Tell me.”

 

“There was a boy. He was working undercover like me but he got caught.” Siwon frowns at his, rubbing at his chin. “What I saw… it wasn’t pleasant. It’s different, actually seeing it happen, you know?”

 

“I don’t know about anyone else infiltrating Exo,” says Siwon. “Did you see what they did with the body?”

 

Chanyeol nearly gasps at how calm he sounds, as if this really is the average catch-up over soju and ramyeon and not what it actually is. Guilt plagues him when he shakes his head, picturing the boy being dumped somewhere, or burned in acid, or any other number of things he’s seen happen on TV that he never thought about happening in real life.

 

“I think it’s time to pull you, Chanyeol. Clearly you’ve seen enough.”

 

“He said – he said something about the new chief of police.”

 

That catches Siwon’s attention. “Go on.”

 

“He implied that who he worked for was sure to get the job and that – I don’t know – maybe that he had connections to the underground? Kyungsoo also said that there are moles within the police you need to be careful –”

 

“Hold on, you’ve been in contact with _Kyungsoo_? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

 _I was afraid you would pull me,_ he thinks as he aims for a nonchalant shrug. It’s clear from Siwon’s expression that he fails.

 

“I’m concerned about you, Chanyeol, especially if you’ve been interacting with that monster. If you want to leave I’m here to get you out right away. But what you’ve said to me is very disturbing. If what you tell me is true, the new chief of police for Seoul could be the very thing we’re fighting so hard to take down. I can’t in good conscience just ignore this information and you’ve gone further than any of our other men have ever managed.”

 

He wants to ask if that’s because they never managed to get higher than grunt level, or if it’s because they got caught, but now he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

 

“Are you willing to stay a little bit longer to see if you can figure out who this man is? I imagine Suho’s men must be curious too, if he’s threatening to take down their empire.”

 

He doesn’t know what it says about himself that he feels overcome with relief. He’s still terrified, yes, but he also doesn’t know how to walk away. Working with the Exo Group has become his life now. Working with Kyungsoo has become the reason for him to get out bed in the morning, just on the mere hope he can get the man to smile. It’s wrong. It’s fucked up. Probably psychologists have some fancy name for it. But here he is, like a crack addict waiting for his next fix, even as he knows it will probably kill him.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

Siwon claps him on the shoulder. “I knew I could rely on you. I’m truly sorry to ask this of you, especially now with what you’ve seen. I have to go before I risk your cover any further but if you ever need me, let me know, okay? I won’t keep you in there much longer and I’ll be working on the outside to see if I can figure out who it is.”

 

He throws a handful of bills onto the counter, picks up his jacket, and walks off. Chanyeol remains, nursing his soju, guilt seeping into his blood faster than the alcohol. There are things he did not say, like how when he stumbled into the restaurant bathroom to throw up, the flickering lights against dingy tile walls making him dizzy, Kyungsoo had materialised from nowhere and rubbed gently against Chanyeol’s back.

 

When he had wiped his mouth and turned, Kyungsoo had sunk to his knees and cupped Chanyeol’s face in his hands like he was delicate, something precious, and rasped, “I’m sorry you had to see that. I should not have let you watch me like that.”

 

Chanyeol hadn’t been able to find the words, only feeling cool skin and hot sticky blood on his face, smearing as Kyungsoo ran a callused thumb over his cheekbone. His heart had raced again, but not out of fear. Or at least, not the fear of violence. Of another sort. One he cannot indulge, for he has already fallen too far down the rabbit hole that he can barely see daylight anymore.

 

What it does it say about him, that he can feel so strongly about a man like that? He’s not sure he cares anymore.

 

*

 

 

The strangest thing is how everything goes back to normal afterwards. Chanyeol gets up, groggy from a restless night of tossing and turning, hair sticking up all over the place, and attends a meeting at Junmyeon’s mansion, nodding in all the right places as the inner circle speculate on the nature of the man making moves against them.

 

“We aren’t the only ones he’s antagonised,” says Minseok. “Haykeon mentioned that they’ve also had a similar problem south of the river.”

 

“Hyunsik also mentioned something similar,” says Kyungsoo.

 

“Taehyung said the same thing,” adds Baekhyun.

 

All heads turns to look at him and he raises his palms. He pouts at Junmyeon. “You were the one who told me to keep in touch with him. Bangtan might be our rivals but in this case they could be a good ally.”

 

Junmyeon nods. “I’ll be in touch with my contacts within the police to see what they know.” He looks at Kyungsoo. “I really wish we had managed to keep the boy alive but there’s nothing to be done about it now.”

 

Kyungsoo gives him a cold stare, arms crossed.

 

Chanyeol watches the discussion unfold, keeping quiet as he tries not to think back to the basement, to the way the boy’s body had folded in on itself when he finally stopped breathing. He needs to push it aside. Here he is a cold killer, just like the rest of them. What he’s really worried about is how easy it is to justify it; to just suppress the memory and move on, call the boy just another necessary casualty.

 

“In the mean time,” Junmyeon continues, adjusting his glasses, “Jongdae and Yixing will be going to China to utilise our networks there. They’ll ship as much Kokobop over as we can manage right now.”

 

“Which means, party at mine tonight to see them off,” says Baekhyun. “We’ll see them off in good style.”

 

Jongdae grins, clapping Baekhyun on the back, and Yixing throws his hands up.

 

Sensing the mood for serious discussion has passed, Junmyeon sighs and sends them on their way. All but Jongdae get up to leave and Chanyeol shuffles after the others, half in a daze as he contemplates the ethics of partying after he has just watched someone die. The fear of being caught still lingers, now that he knows exactly what will happen to him if it occurs. He pauses in the corridor to catch his breath, eyes raking over the gilded portraits and polished marble floors.

 

Inside he hears the murmurs of voices. “It’ll be fine. I need to do this, or we’ll be letting them win. I’ve done it enough times that it’ll be easy.”

 

“I know. I just resent you leaving all the time.” It’s Junmyeon. “You promised me you’d stick around when we started this, didn’t you?”

 

A huff of breath. “I’m doing this _for_ you, you idiot.” It’s said fondly.

 

Curious, he can’t help but steal a glance through the crack in the door. Junmyeon and Jongdae are standing with barely a gap between them, foreheads pressed together and their eyes closed. There’s something so quiet, so intimate about the moment, that he immediately feels like a voyeur for looking. As softly as he can, he draws back, mind reeling. What he just witnessed doesn’t quite feel real. They’re gangsters, bad men who even they if don’t quite hurt people, certainly seem to have no concerns for those caught in the crossfire. But the delicacy of that one moment; of whispered confessions in an empty boardroom...

 

Maybe things aren’t as black and white as he thought. Maybe it’s a sign he’s been too corrupted to even be thinking of it, but there’s something freeing about it too. That these men can hold and be gentle and love. That maybe he’s not a monster for growing attached to this world, to this life. To these people.

 

With the whole afternoon ahead of him before the evening hits, Chanyeol takes his time going home, deciding he wants to shop for a new outfit first. If he’s going to play a part he’s going to dress for it. He picks up various things, humming a song under his breath. Strangely, he’s in the mood to let loose.

 

By the time he gets back to his crummy flat the sun is setting, the light in his apartment a russet red. It sparks something in him and before he knows it he’s sliding into the bathroom with a box in his hands. He doesn’t know much about dying his hair but he follows the instructions as best as he can, massaging it into his roots and leaving it to work. Once he’s done he needs to work up the courage to look in the mirror, holding his breath.

 

He almost can’t believe it. The man that stares back at him from the mirror is different from the one he knows. His dark eyes look sharper, more menacing. There’s a cut on his cheek that he actually got from sleepily chopping onions but it only adds to the overall feel. The cherry on top, quite literally, is the flame red hair that stands out so much more than his natural chestnut, bringing out his eyes and cheekbones. Chanyeol smiles. It’s the new him.

 

One of Baekhyun’s cars takes him to the club and he slides out dressed in leather and sunglasses even though it’s night time. The bouncer sees him skip the line of scantily clad guests queuing outside and he wonders what he looks like to them as the man nods and he saunters past, flashing the girls at the front a wink from beyond the rim of his glasses. He feels like a new man.

 

Inside the club is packed, sweet with smoke, and atmospheric with muted purple lighting, the deep bass combined with sultry vocals booming over the speakers sinking into his veins. His heads bobs as he parts the crowd, heading for the VIP area with the air of a man who knows he belongs. For tonight he can be a king, if he wants. The only way to survive this job is to cast his fear aside and play it out, however the curtain decides to fall.

 

“Chanyeol!” calls Baekhyun. “Look at you.” He punctuates this with a whistle, raking his eyes up and down his form.

 

Chanyeol grins, clasping his hand. “I could say the same.” Tonight Baekhyun has lined his eyes with smoky eye shadow, giving him a look of mystery. He’s certainly drawing looks from men and women alike.

 

“No flirting,” he jokes, “I’m a taken man.”

 

He knows Baekhyun has a complicated on-off relationship with a woman named Taeyeon, a woman with the face of an angel despite the fact that she kills people for a living. He wishes them luck. “Who’s here?”

 

“Everyone except for our Junmyeon, of course.”

 

“He never comes to these things?”

 

“No, no,” says Baekhyun, making his way to the bar with multiple detours to schmooze with various club-goers. “He has a reputation to uphold in society, unlike the rest of us, you see. Poor man. I’m sure Jongdae will bow out early to keep him company though, won’t you?” he chides, nudging Jongdae from his seat at the bar, a glass clutched between his hands.

 

Jongdae sticks out his tongue and nudges him back. “Bite me.”

 

Baekhyun leans in like like he’s going to do it but is stopped by Jongdae’s hand in his face, the two of them breaking into fits of laughter. Chanyeol marvels at how the two of them can belong to the inner circle of one of the most feared gangs in the city and be a pair of utter dorks. It’s charming. It’s deceiving.

 

“So, Chanyeol, what are you feeling like tonight? A man? A woman? Both?”

 

His eyes widen and he’s glad for the muted lighting because he’s sure he feels himself blush. The sound he makes is something between a squeak and a yelp and it sets both Baekhyun and Jongdae to laughing again. “Look at his face,” laughs Baekhyun. “But in all seriousness, I can get you anything you want. _Anything._ ”

 

Chanyeol leans back against the bar, his eyes naturally falling on Kyungsoo who is sitting at a booth, whispering with Jongin, the two of them sitting so close to one another there’s barely a gap between them. He takes a gulp of his drink on reflex, closing his eyes at it sinks into him, humming along to the song in the club. Baekhyun might be good, but he’s not that good. And Chanyeol doesn’t want anything but a good time, anyway. That’s what he tells himself.

 

“Oh, Jongin!” shouts Baekhyun, drawing his eyes open once more. “Your boy’s here.”

 

He follows the line of Baekhyun’s finger to a handsome man entering the club in a long tan coat, hair slicked back to accentuate a sharp jawline. Something about him is vaguely familiar, Chanyeol thinks, as Jongin bounds up to him and the two men embrace, pulling back to grin at one another happily.

 

Baekhyun leans into his space, alcohol strong on his breath. “Taemin is one of our cops,” he whispers far too loudly, pressing a finger to his lips.

 

Chanyeol freezes, putting down his glass so he doesn’t drop it. His eyes rake over Taemin once more, leaning into Jongin’s space as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, and he considers whether he’s seen him around the station, or maybe at some kind of charity night. It’s been easy to ignore the fact that Exo have moles inside the force until now; until he’s looking at one standing mere feet from him. A traitor. The reverse of himself.

 

But he watches Taemin pull Jongin into a secluded corner, the two of them lost in deep conversation, Jongin laughing so hard he doubles over, and he softens. Sometimes the world is just a funny place. Where bad men can be kind and where lovers can find commonalities across worlds. There’s something poetic about it, he thinks. Or maybe he’s just drunk.

 

Seizing the opportunity whilst Baekhyun and Jongdae get caught up in drunken banter, he orders two drinks and sidles up to Kyungsoo’s table. It takes him a moment to finally look up, eyes flicking up, down, and then doing a double take when he sees Chanyeol, dark eyes appraising him in the sultry lighting of the club.

 

“Mind if I sit?” Before Kyungsoo can even ask he slides onto smooth leather and pushes a drink across to him.

 

“Your hair,” Kyungsoo murmurs, still staring at him.

 

“Oh, yeah,” he says, touching it. He keeps forgetting. “Do you like it?”

 

Kyungsoo smiles and it lifts his heart. “It suits you somehow.”

 

Chanyeol beams at him. “Thanks, man. I just felt like a change, you know?”

 

Kyungsoo nods.

 

For a while they fall into companionable silence, watching people dancing on the floor below, packed with bodies under the flashing lights. Up in the VIP lounge some are also beginning to sway to the music, arms thrown around one another and drinks sloshing in their hands. The music winds through him, making him bob his head unconsciously, combining with the liquor to make a potent mix of euphoric feeling. When he sees Jongin and Taemin dancing he turns to Kyungsoo and holds out his hand.

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen and he violently shakes his head but Chanyeol only pouts. “Come on, Kyungsoo. Just for one night, let loose.” His eyes are already blinking heavier with the drink and he’s humming again. Now seems the perfect time to strike.

 

He licks his lips. “I don’t dance,” he says, voice hoarse.

 

Chanyeol scoffs. “Everyone dances. Come on, I’ll show you how.” He takes Kyungsoo’s hand and pulls him towards him. With them both clumsy on booze, Kyungsoo crashes into his chest and he laughs, using his momentary confusion to swing him onto the dance floor.

 

“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo hisses, looking around him but everyone is too drunk to care.

 

He sneaks a hand around to his back and presses him in a little closer. “I’m dancing with you. See?” He sways to the music, letting his head loll back as he feels it move through him. He feels high. He genuinely can’t remember the last time he felt this good.

 

After a few beats Kyungsoo seems to loosen up, swaying in time to the music with him. He looks good like this, eyes closed and head thrown back to reveal the column of his neck, purple under the lights flashing in Chanyeol’s eyes. The silky shirt he’s wearing clings to his frame, the top buttons popped just enough to draw his attention. A bead of sweat drips down his chest and he forces himself to look away. To simply enjoy the night and no more.

 

But it’s too much. With their bodies pressed tight in the throng of people, with Kyungsoo looking at him from under the fan of his dark lashes, lips parted as he mouths along to the song, it’s just too much for him to deny. Attraction swirls through him, pooling below, affecting him more than the numerous drinks he’s consumed. What does it mean, that he wants to get closer? Wants to know more? Wants to wake up to warm sunlight streaking across Kyungsoo’s cheekbones in his bed?

 

It’s gone too far. He’s long past the point of return now. But somehow he can’t scrape together the urgency he should feel enough to try and pull out. He just wants to dance with Kyungsoo, until his feet are sore and his voice is hoarse from singing. For tonight, at least, he wants to pretend that this is who he really is.

 

When Kyungsoo smiles at him, soft and secretive, it’s enough. Just for the Chanyeol, just for one night, it’s enough.

 

*

 

“Stop fidgeting. You’re going to attract attention.”

 

Chanyeol smiles at Kyungsoo who is standing straight with his arms crossed behind his back as he waits for their contact to show up. It’s a routine exchange – money for a truckload of guns that have been smuggled in from China. A few of their men are scattered about the warehouse to keep watch. Chanyeol still finds it a little weird that his place is at Kyungsoo’s side, even if he’s been undercover for more than a year now. Yet at the same time it feels right. Like this is where he’s supposed to be. It gets harder and harder to remember that it’s not.

 

“I just hate waiting. Do these guys always have to take so long? They’re just trying to seem important by making us wait.”

 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes but Chanyeol catches the quirk of his lips. “You’re such a child. How you managed to survive this long, I don’t know.”

 

He clutches his chest in mock offence. “Kyungsoo, you wound me.”

 

Kyungsoo’s soft smile slips as the sound of an engine rumbles from outside. Chanyeol hears the sound of a car door door slam and then their seller is arriving, flanked by a group of men in all black. Sometimes it really is like being in a movie, the kind where everything is tense and silent, the sound of footsteps echoing in the tinny space of the warehouse.

 

“Nice to see you boys again,” the man greets with a grin.

 

“Kangin. Where’s the merch?” says Kyungsoo, all business as always.

 

The man shrugs. “It’s outside. Just wanted to make sure you had the cash, you know?”

 

Kyungsoo gestures to one of their men and they scamper across with a briefcase. He clicks it open, reveals a glimpse of tantalising bills, and then snatches it back before Kangin can so much as reach out. “The money’s here. You won’t see it again until I can inspect the guns.”

 

Kangin tuts. “So little faith in me, Kyungsoo?” The man turns and flicks a finger at one of his men. It’s sharp enough that it puts Chanyeol on edge. Reflexively he steps closer to Kyungsoo. The man’s eyes flicker up to him.

 

“Think I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”

 

“Chanyeol,” he says, plastering on his most fake grin and sticking out his hand.

 

Kangin tilts his head and then grasps his hand in a vice-like grip. They’re always such posers, these men. They all think they’re so hard. Kangin is no different. There’s something about the way his eyes roam around the room as if he owns the place, his smirk the smirk of a man with a secret. It just makes him uneasy. Something is up; he’s sure of it.

 

When Kangin’s man returns with nothing in hands he already knows where this is heading. It’s the same situation as he was in nearly a year ago, standing nervously behind Yixing and wringing his hands. He’d been so nervous he’d caught the other man’s subtle gesture to his man and had seen it in slow motion – the moment the gun was pulled on Yixing. It had been a conscious decision to save him, knowing he was saving a criminal. Knowing it would get his foot in the door. That it would be the key to infiltrating Exo.

 

This is nothing like that time. Chanyeol doesn’t think, he just _moves._ All he can think is that he can’t let anything happen to Kyungsoo. One second he’s standing, the next he’s on the ground, numb, cold, the sound of a gunshot ringing in his ears so loud that the proceeding shouts sound far away, like he’s underwater. He can feel himself fade, suddenly sleepy.

 

From above he hears his name and then he sees a pair of dark eyes, wide and fearful. “Kyungsoo,” he tries to say, before everything goes black.

 

Those eyes are the last thing he remembers.

 

*

 

“He’s awake! He’s awake!”

 

Chanyeol blinks into the bright white light of hospital room. For a few moments he’s confused, wondering how he got there. Then it comes back to him in flashes – the deal, the sound of gunshots, the pain and cold as he hit the floor. “Kyungsoo?” he croaks, voice hoarse.

 

“I just called him,” says Baekhyun, patting him on the arm.

 

“You gave us a bit of fright,” says Jongdae, holding a stuffed teddy and a card in his arms. Beside him on a table is a vase of colourful flowers that brighten the stark white of the room. “Junmyeon sends his regards,” he adds, gesturing to them. “You’re just lucky Yixing and I hadn’t left for China yet, or that night might have gone very differently.”

 

Chanyeol frowns at his dazzling smile, as if he’s supposed to be appeased by this news. His head is fuzzy and beneath the cloud of painkillers, his abdomen throbs. It’s hard to focus on so many faces but he feels so overwhelmed by them all coming to see him that he can’t bring himself to ask them to leave. They actually care. It’s sweet, in it’s own way.

 

“You need to stop making this a habit,” says Yixing. “I swear I’m going to buy you a bulletproof vest.”

 

Chanyeol laughs and then winces when it hurts. “I know. Oh, man, do I know.” He clutches his stomach as he wheezes.

 

“All right, everyone out. Give him some space,” says Minseok, clapping his hands together. As the men begin to shuffle back he steps to his bedside and rests a hand on his shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re going to be all right. We all worried when you didn’t wake up the first night.”

 

“The first night?”

 

“You’ve been out for two days.” At what he sees on Chanyeol’s face he shakes his head. “The doctor said you stabilised. It was just a matter of time until you woke up, but we all still worried, you know?” He turns his head at the sound of footsteps in the corridor and begins to step away. “I’ll leave you to rest up. We hope to see you back soon.”

 

It’s probably weird to feel the flood of warmth that he does, taking in the words, the cards, the flowers and gifts. But it means a lot. It means everything, really. Or at least, that’s what he thinks until he sees Kyungsoo’s wild eyes as he stumbles into the room, looking for all the world like he’s seen a ghost. Chanyeol gasps at the sight of him, all dark circles against pale skin and the shadow of days’ old stubble.

 

“You’re awake.” He’s still standing just inside the doorway, hand braced on the frame.

 

“I mean I think I am? Still feeling a little fuzzy, though. You’re okay?”

 

Kyungsoo looks at him and then laughs, but it’s a breathy, desperate sound. “Am I okay? That’s the first thing you say to me? Am I okay?”

 

Chanyeol hesitates. “Are you – are you not?”

 

He strides forwards until Chanyeol is staring up into those dark eyes, pinned by their weight. “You just took a bullet for me, you stupid man, and you have the audacity to ask me if I’m okay?”

 

The smile spreads across his face. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

 

Kyungsoo slaps a hand over his face. When he finally, finally lowers it Chanyeol is delighted to see him smiling, even if he’s shaking his head. “You’re impossible, do you know that? If it wasn’t considered bad manner to hurt an injured man I’d shoot you myself.”

 

“Aw, Kyungsoo, why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

 

It is, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Suddenly the atmosphere goes tense, the only noise the sound of the machine he’s hooked to in the corner that gives out soft beeps every so often. Chanyeol feels like he can’t look away, mesmerised by Kyungsoo; by the slope of his brows, the depth of his eyes, the shape of his lips. It’s like someone cut the air and he can’t draw enough air into his lungs, his breathing heavy. He wants to say something else – something right – but he can’t find the thoughts never mind the words.

 

“It’s nice to see you awake, Mr Park,” interrupts a soft voice as a nurse enters the room and they both break apart, air rushing back into his lungs. He tries not to snap at her but it’s a challenge.

 

“I should go,” says Kyungsoo, moving to the door. Chanyeol stares at him, wants to beg him to stay, but he simply nods. “Get well soon, Chanyeol.”

 

“How are you feeling?” the nurse asks, examining his vitals. “Your resting heart rate is a little fast.”

 

“I’m not sure,” he says.

 

It’s a lie. What he really is, is scared of how he’s feeling.

 

*

 

The next few days in the hospital are a haze of fading in and out. Sometimes the members of Exo are there, bickering over lukewarm coffee, or making fun of the way he sleeps until he rouses awake for a few hours and manages to eat something. It’s amazing how tired he perpetually feels, like the wound has drained the life from him. It itches and it throbs and he wants to tear the bandage from his abdomen, feeling too restless inside his box of a room.

 

He’s grown so accustomed to the routine of Baekhyun or Jongdae or even Jongin popping in during the afternoon visiting hours that the day before he’s due to get out, he’s completely startled to awaken to a break in his routine.

 

“Hey, son,” says Siwon, eyes crinkling as he smiles down at him. “Good to see you in one piece.”

 

Chanyeol scrambles to sit up and then winces when his wound flares at the motions.

 

“Please, take it easy. No need to injure yourself any further on my account.” Now that Chanyeol looks, he can see Siwon looks tired, shadows deep beneath his eyes.

 

“It’s not so bad. Nurse says I’ll be released soon.”

 

Siwon takes this in with a nod. “I’m sorry this has happened to you. Again. Really, I should never asked this of you.”

 

“I’m fine. A bit sore, true, but I’m still in one piece. I told you I could handle this and I can.”

 

Siwon sweeps his eyes over his face and he feels himself sweat. It’s as if the man can read everything on his face. “Things have changed. This corruption goes deeper than I even realised. Chanyeol… you could be undercover for years before we ever found everything we needed and even then, there’s little we can do.”

 

He ignores the throb of pain to sit up straighter. “What do you mean?”

 

Siwon leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re everywhere. There’s so much more than I realised. To pursue it would be to ask for trouble. Imprisonment, maybe worse. I can’t risk your life any more than I have, Chanyeol.”

 

“No,” he says. “No, you can’t pull me now. It’s not over.”

 

“Look at you. You’re in hospital because of this. It’s too dangerous.”

 

“It’s dangerous for me if I just leave.” He glances around, suddenly conscious of anyone that could be listening in. “Just give me a little more time. I already have so much. It won’t take much longer, I promise.” He’s not even sure what he’s saying, only knows he can’t leave yet.

 

Siwon looks at him. “I fear you’re getting to close to this. Have you lost sight of yourself?”

 

Chanyeol squirms, wound itching, trying not to panic. “No. Just, let me do this. The names I know now… the things I could tell you. It’ll all be for nothing if I can’t find out who the inside man is. If our chief ends up being one of theirs, what’s the point in this whole thing in the first place? Don’t let it be for nothing.”

 

Siwon looks hesitant but ultimately settles. “I’ll give you another month. After that I’m pulling you. I think a better handler would have taken you out long before now.”

 

Chanyeol breathes a sigh of relief, feeling the pressure lift from his chest.

 

They settle into quiet chitchat about this and that, never straying from inoffensive topics until visiting hours are over and Siwon has to leave. Chanyeol feels the energy drain from him, suddenly exhausted. It doesn’t matter who he’s with, he’s always playing a part; putting on a show. He can’t remember who _Chanyeol_ is anymore, beyond the fragments he has glued together from the various lies he tells.

 

It should probably frighten him but in so many ways he feels freer than he ever did before. Chanyeol is free to be whoever he wants to be. His story is still unwritten and he holds the pen.

 

*

 

It takes him a few days of pottering around the flat, sleeping twelve hours a night and feeling sorry for himself when no one visits before he can muster up the energy to go out. His arm is still in a sling to support his wounded shoulder so he struggles with his shirt and ends up slinging his jacket over his shoulders. In the mirror his eyes look tired, his nose has a plaster to cover the cut from his fall, and the red dye in his hair looks faded. He sighs and shakes his head. In the end he asked for all of this so he might as well get back to it.

 

Baekhyun’s club is the same as always, pounding bass and packed bodies, the smell of sweat and alcohol permeating the slick atmosphere from the shimmering lights. They put him under a daze, head still cloudy with pain medication. He doesn’t even know if they’re all here; he just needs to get out. Out of the cramped space of his flat and out of his head.

 

“Chanyeol, buddy, you’re out!”

 

He accepts Baekhyun’s proffered hand with his good hand and they move to bump chests until a sharp jolt of pain reminds him of his injury. Baekhyun rakes his eyes over him. “You feeling alright? You still look a bit sore.”

 

“I did just get shot.”

 

Baekhyun shrugs. “We’ve all been through it. Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to be drinking while I’m on my meds.” Chanyeol still follows him anyway.

 

“Pfft,” Baekhyun scoffs. “And you listened? Come on, you need something strong by the looks of it.”

 

Chanyeol shrugs, accepts the drink placed down in front of him, tasting the sharpness of the alcohol beneath the fruity juice of his cocktail. He can already feel it hit him and he sinks back against the bar, ignoring the sticky surface. His eyes roam the room but he’s unable to admit to himself who he’s looking for.

 

“I did tell him to visit, you know,” says Baekhyun conversationally, “but you know how he is. He’s totally been worried about you though.”

 

Chanyeol freezes, looking at Baekhyun’s grin out of the corner of his eye. “That’s – nice to hear,” he manages, voice rough.

 

“I mean I don’t get it myself but you do you. Look at all the beautiful men you could have gone for instead, like our Nini.” Baekhyun nods as Jongin bounds up, a beaming smile lighting up his handsome face.

 

“Chanyeol! It’s good to see you. You’re looking well.”

 

He raises his half-finished cocktail in a salute. “Nice to see you too, buddy. You’re looking a damn sight better than me.” Sure enough, he’s dressed in jeans in that must have been painted on they’re so tight and a shirt with such a deep V it reveals his chiselled abs. Jongin is an attractive man – he can’t deny that.

 

“Have you met Taemin yet?”

 

He nearly chokes on his drink and he swallows it in a gulp, mouth sputtering. The last thing he wants to risk is a cop recognising him, as unlikely as it probably it is. With his height and his ears, he kind of stands out. “I, uh –”

 

He cuts off, eyes bugging as a familiar figure enters through the back entrance, stalking through the floor. Dancers swerve out of his way, parting like the red sea so that he has a clear path to the bar. Lights shine down on him as if he’s centre stage, illuminating the cut of his jaw and those stunning dark eyes. Jongin turns and breathes a soft, “Oh.”

 

Then suddenly Kyungsoo’s eyes flick up to meet his and steal the breath from him. Kyungsoo halts a few feet from the bar, staring. There’s a few flecks of something on his shirt and face. Blood, maybe. Feeling like the world has narrowed down to just them, he doesn’t know how to react. Settling for an awkward wave, he feels himself take a breath when Kyungsoo’s tense form relaxes, crossing the last few steps to meet him.

 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to drink when you’re taking medication.”

 

“Ah, Kyungsoo, where’s the fun in that?” He can’t help grinning at him, nearly level in height with him now that he’s sitting on a stool. It’s kind of thrilling looking up at him.

 

Baekhyun coughs. “Come on, Jongin, let’s leave them to catch up.” Chanyeol doesn’t even see them leave.

 

The drink makes him feel bold. “I heard you were worried about me.”

 

Kyungsoo scoffs and takes the seat next to him. “Baekhyun likes to run his mouth.” He raises a finger and the barman scrambles to get him a drink.

 

Noticing the flecks on his neck, he reaches out before he can stop himself and feels Kyungsoo freeze under him as he rubs at the skin. “Where have you been? Have you been working?”

 

Turning, Kyungsoo’s dark eyes flick down to where his finger still traces circles against his neck. Chanyeol swears he feels him shiver. “I was taking care of the men who dared to double-cross me and my own.”

 

“Am I yours?” slips out of his mouth unbidden.

 

The shared gaze between them turns heavy; weighted with unspoken promise. Heat curls in his gut and he tries to remind himself of all the reasons why this is a bad idea but his reason clearly abandoned him long ago. “Why did you do that? Jump in front of me?”

 

Their drinks sit on the counter top. Abandoned. “I didn’t think,” he confesses, still holding that gaze. “I just acted. I only knew I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

 

Kyungsoo huffs, shakes his head, and then downs his glass in one go. “You, Park Chanyeol, are an idiot.” He gets up, loosening his tie.

 

“Are you leaving?”

 

Kyungsoo glances back, raises an eyebrow as if to say, _well?_ Chanyeol scrambles off his seat and scampers after him, following him out of the noisy, sweltering heat of the club into a plush corridor, dimly lit and guarded by a security man who doesn’t even glance at them as they pass by. Here the bass is muffled, more sultry. He has no idea what’s happening.

 

They take a lift up to the top floor. Chanyeol has never been up here but he knows this place is also a front for a brothel. He follows wordlessly. For all he knows he’s going to his death, Kyungsoo knowing who he really is and going to finish just another job. Maybe dump him in the Han once he’s done. It would certainly explain the bead of sweat running down his temple, anticipation curling in his stomach.

 

But that’s not it.

 

Kyungsoo pulls a key from his pocket and uses it to unlock a door at the end. “Took this from Baekhyun a while back. Always handy to have a place to hideout when I need it.”

 

It’s dark inside, but for the distant spots of lights from Seoul’s skyline flickering against Kyungsoo’s profile, dark lashes fanning out across his cheeks. Chanyeol’s breath hitches. It’s hard to believe this man is even real, the way he’s got him completely under his spell. His throat turns dry when Kyungsoo yanks off his tie, turns, and pushes him onto the bed in the centre of the room.

 

Chanyeol glances up at him, shuffling further up so that his long limbs are comfortable on the bed. It’s plush – Baekhyun spares no expenses apparently – and then smiles coyly at Kyungsoo who’s still standing at the side. “I’d like to take you to dinner,” he says, stars in his eyes.

 

Kyungsoo dives down, crawling over him until he’s straddling his thighs. “Screw dinner,” he breathes into his lips before he’s biting down.

 

Chanyeol groans, hands flying up to grasp Kyungsoo’s head, running them over the soft hair there as he pulls him back down for another kiss, and then another, and then another. His hips shift up to meet Kyungsoo’s and the friction quickens his breath, panting into Kyungsoo’s mouth as they rock together.

 

Then just as quickly as he started, Kyungsoo sits up, lips bruised in the low light of the city. His hands rake up beneath Chanyeol’s shirt, lightly scratching, and when his nails hit his nipples Chanyeol gives a startled moan of pleasure. “Off,” he commands. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

 

Chanyeol surges up to meet his mouth again, licking past his lips. He nips at Kyungsoo’s bottom lip and says, “I don’t mind if you rip it.”

 

Kyungsoo smirks and does just that, buttons flying. He hears them rattle against the floor as he unbuttons Kyungsoo’s shirt and chucks it away. It lays bare so much milky skin begging to be explored so he kisses his way down the column of his neck, teething at his collarbones. Fingers tighten in his hair as Kyungsoo groans, shifting his hips so that he’s grinding against him. Chanyeol smiles into the kisses he places down his chest before he’s tonguing at a nipple.

 

“Chan- _yeol,_ ” Kyungsoo breathes, head thrown back and inviting him back to sucking at his neck.

 

“You’ve enraptured me, you know,” he murmurs, pulling back to look Kyungsoo in the eye. “I think you cast a spell on me.”

 

Kyungsoo ducks his head, snorts, and then shoves him back down. It’s so hot that Chanyeol’s hips snap up, desperate for friction with so much heat rushing to his cock. He’s trapped by Kyungsoo’s hands, now working at his belt so that he can yank down his black jeans and boxers all at once. In response he squeezes Kyungsoo’s ass then tugs at his own. “Take them off,” he whines. “Come on, Soo.”

 

“I should have known you’d have no patience.” He feels the loss of Kyungsoo’s heat as he swings a leg back over him and moves to the other side of the room. Then he’s back with a packet of lube and a condom. “I’ll just have to teach you, won’t I?”

 

Chanyeol isn’t sure he can be any harder at this moment but the words send a flood of heat downwards and his hips are grinding up, seeking anything he can get. When Kyungsoo straddles him again, he digs the fingers of one hand into his hip, teasingly walking the other hand beneath his boxers. “What do you want?” Kyungsoo’s skin is silky soft under his fingertips, hiding firm muscle beneath.

 

Kyungsoo tilts his head as if considering and then tosses him the lube. “I think I like you under me like this.”

 

“Mm,” he says, breathy, “me too.” It takes him a few tries to rip open the lube packet, rubbing it between his fingers before he’s tugging down the black fabric of Kyungsoo’s underwear and pushing in. Steadying him with his other hand when he rocks forward, he watches the way Kyungsoo bites his lips, eyelids fluttering as he opens him up nice and slow.

 

“God, you’re beautiful.”

 

Dark eyes flick down to him. “You’ve already got me here, there’s no need to sweet-talk me now.”

 

“I disagree. I think there’s every need.” Chanyeol pulls his fingers out and then fumbles with the condom until Kyungsoo takes charge, rolling it down over his flushed cock and then sinking down on him, slowly, slowly, until he bottoms out and Chanyeol’s groaning at the heat, fingers gripping his hips.

 

Kyungsoo begins to move, fast, shallow circles that meet his own thrusts upwards, each sparking a flare of heat that builds and builds and builds. The sound of their breathing fills the room, mixed with soft moans and the slap of skin. Chanyeol is lost to the sensations, vision filled with Kyungsoo as his head slips back, sweat shining on his temples. He can feel the familiar tightening of his core; knows it won’t be long as his breaths turn heavier, thrusts more desperate.

 

Then suddenly Kyungsoo stops moving, pinning Chanyeol down with hands pressed into his chest. Chanyeol squirms, burning up, needing release. “What – what are you doing?”

 

Kyungsoo rocks once, agonisingly slow, and it rips a groan from Chanyeol as heat sears him. Kyungsoo’s voice is rough. “I’m teaching you patience.” Everywhere he touches is a brand.

 

“Come – on, Soo.” He thrusts up with his hips but Kyungsoo keeps him weighed down, controlling the pace with slow, lazy circles that keep building him back up to the edge but not quite enough. “Please,” he whines. “Please, Kyungsoo.”

 

Kyungsoo folds over and presses an opened mouthed kiss to his lips, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he grinds down again. “I could make this last all night.”

 

“Please,” he almost sobs, clawing at his back. “I need you. I need you so bad.”

 

Straightening up again, the intensity in Kyungsoo’s eyes sends a shiver through his body, Chanyeol’s grip tightening on his hips. His lips are parted, soft pants escaping past them. In the colourful lights of Seoul’s night time he looks exquisite, the kind of muse that would inspire the best painters and musicians. Chanyeol would write him a hundred songs – no, a thousand – if he’d only _move._

 

Finally, finally, he picks up the pace again, rolling his hips down to meet Chanyeol’s ragged thrusts. Each time they snap together he throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut as a soft moan passes his lips. Feeling the heat become overwhelming, Chanyeol loses his rhythm, hips thrusting up in uneven bursts as a cry bursts from his chest and he comes, slamming into Kyungsoo with a groan.

 

As he rocks through the aftershocks he grips Kyungsoo’s cock in his fist and strokes once, twice, three times. He feels Kyungsoo tense around him and then he spills over his hand, slumping forwards until his nose is pressed into Chanyeol’s sweaty hair, panting in his ear. Chanyeol doesn’t have the energy to move, just lies there flushed and sticky with the pleasant weight of Kyungsoo on top of him.

 

With his clean hand he strokes the short hairs at Kyungsoo’s nape and hums. “You know, I’d still like to take you to dinner.”

 

He feels Kyungsoo’s answering laughter rumble through him. “If you’re paying.”

 

*

 

And pay Chanyeol does. They go somewhere quiet that Kyungsoo recommends, dressed nice but not too nice, and sample nearly every dish on the menu. Chanyeol talks and talks and talks and says far too much but Kyungsoo seems content to listen, eyes shining in the flickering candlelight as he sips his wine and laughs in all the right places. He has a nice laugh, Chanyeol thinks. The kind that starts out of nowhere and startles them both, Kyungsoo’s dark eyes crinkling at the corners and making Chanyeol want to forget food altogether and take him straight back to bed. Or maybe just kiss him senseless and walk him home with their hands intertwined.

 

But it’s a relief, to know it’s not all sex. To know that Kyungsoo wants to spend time with him, simply chatting and getting to know one another, free of all the pressures of their life. This man is a completely different one from Do Kyungsoo, hitman to the mob. This man is intelligent and charming and funny, with a sparkle in his eye and a passion for music. This man makes his smile widen and his stomach flutter and all the stupid cliché things he sees in romantic comedies.

 

Except this isn’t a romantic comedy. It’s a thought that lurks in the back of his mind as he pays, admiring the long black coat against Kungsoo’s frame. It’s still there when they go back to Kyungsoo’s place and fuck three times: once against the wall, once on the sofa and once on the bed. It keeps him awake as Kyungsoo curls up and goes to sleep, swirling around and around in his mind.

 

This isn’t a romantic comedy but Chanyeol has fallen completely, utterly, head over heels in love with Kyungsoo and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

*

 

Chanyeol considers leaving quietly one morning, as he sits up in bed, fingers combing through Kyunsoo’s lengthening hair. Siwon has a plan in place to extract him as soon as he gives the word; it’d be over so quickly they would never know, and he’d be on a plane with a fake passport in an hour. His grip tightens subconsciously in Kyungsoo’s hair and his lashes stir, grumbling as he swats at his naked thigh. It would be so easy and yet.

 

Chanyeol considers telling Siwon it’s over and throwing his old life away. He could be reborn into this new world, one of the inner members of the mob, lover of hitman Do Kyungsoo. He’s already crossed so many lines that this last hurdle almost seems like nothing in the grand face of all that he’s already seen; already done. The healing pink scar on his stomach is the mark of this life, symbolic of all he’s already given to to it. It has become as real to him as his old life as a cop used to be, and somehow far less lonely.

 

Chanyeol considers a lot of things and makes a decision on none, torn between what’s right and what he wants. In the end it’s easier not to choose – to keep hoping he can exist in this perfect limbo where he is both – where he can lie to himself and say he is doing his job by climbing into bed with mobsters, and still have the thrill that comes with being part of the elite group of criminals that have become something of a family to him.

 

“I can feel you think from here,” Kyungsoo murmurs, rolling over so that his head is in Chanyeol’s lap. His eyes are soft, half-lidded with sleep, but still every bit as intense.

 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he blurts, because he knows how to ruin a moment.

 

Kyungsoo blinks, wide awake in an instant.

 

“I mean,” he stammers, “I didn’t mean to say – I just meant – oh god.” He buries his face in his hands.

 

Fingers gradually pry his hands back until he can see Kyungsoo stare into his eyes. His expression is indecipherable and Chanyeol feels his heart pound. “Chanyeol,” he says, “you are an idiot.”

 

“I know.”

 

Then Kyungsoo smiles. Not a smirk, or one of his held back, small little smiles. There’s a blinding flash of teeth, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Chanyeol can’t help but mirror it, elation coursing through him. Kyungsoo presses his lips to his, pushing him back onto the bed and swinging a leg over his waist, weight comfortable and warm.

 

“You’re so beautiful, you know.”

 

Kyungsoo snorts, hands running up his sides, tickling and teasing. “And you’re a sap.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“I guess you’re not so bad.”

 

“Not so bad? Kyungsoo, you wound me,” he says, but his grin betrays him.

 

Kyungsoo’s fingers dig into his hips, arousal pooling in his belly. “I can do more than that.”

 

“Oh, yeah?”

 

With the warm sunlight spilling in from the window, Kyungsoo looks soft, warm, mutable. He looks ethereal. Divine. Chanyeol would says prayers but he’s struggling to find words at all, rendered speechless by the beauty of Do Kyungsoo above him.

 

“Mm,” Kyungsoo rumbles, trailing kisses down his chest to his navel. “Just lie back and let me take care of you.”

 

Chanyeol’s head falls against the pillows, eyelids fluttering.

 

He’s so, so fucked.

 

*

 

Of course, he doesn’t realise how real that sentiment is until everything gets flipped upside down.

 

It starts with a regular meeting, just a simple shipment with their Chinese partners that Chanyeol and Kyungsoo oversee with some of the men. He’s still a little distracted by his confession – by thoughts of how much he really, genuinely means what he said – and he trusts that the men know how to handle it, relying on his charm to get him through the pleasantries as crates of guns are loaded into the black van. He’s just about to climb in when Kyungsoo stalks towards him and latches a hand around his wrist, tight enough to bruise.

 

Chanyeol lets himself be dragged, confused, reading the tension in his posture. “Kyungsoo, what about the–”

 

“They can handle it. We need to talk.”

 

They say no more as they march through the docks towards a closed off section surrounded by shipping containers. There’s one light at the entrance, spilling cold, dim light across the concrete ground. This late at night it’s cold but the temperature is nothing compared to the ice sinking into his gut. Something has changed.

 

“Kyungsoo,” he says, voice strangled, “if you wanted me alone you should have just said.”

 

His joke fizzles flat. Fittingly, the first drops of rain start to fall. Chanyeol barely notices, finding himself cornered by a dead eyed Kyungsoo dressed in all black. How many people have seen this sight right before they died? He shivers, and it isn’t the rain that does it. It’s getting heavier, running down his chin and beneath his shirt. It bounces off the ground, filling the silence weighing down the space between them that he desperately wants to close.

 

If this is to be Chanyeol’s last day, he wants to go with Kyungsoo knowing it was all real. He opens his mouth to say as such, but Kyungsoo silences him with the flash of his gun rising in the rain.

 

“Don’t say anything.”

 

“It’s not like that,” he rasps, voice hoarse.

 

Kyungsoo notches the safety.

 

Frustration bubbles up, stronger than the fear sinking in his gut. “How did you find out?”

 

From inside his leather jacket Kyungsoo pulls out a manila folder. Chanyeol instantly recognises it as a police file – much like the ones he was given on the Exo Group when he started this mission – and he goes from shivering cold to numb. He’s been betrayed. Siwon knows. Knows he’s too far gone to ever get out again. Decided to fucking betray him and let it all fall apart in front of him. His fists clench. Siwon has done his reading. He must have known what would happen to Chanyeol if he did this.

 

“I know what it looks like but–”

 

“But what, it’s not what I think?”

 

The lack of inflection in Kyungsoo’s tone makes him wince. His hair is matted to his forehead, drops of water running down his cheeks. Two dark eyes bore into him, bullets embedding their way into his heart.

 

“I meant what I said,” he replies calmly. If he’s going to die Kyungsoo needs to know. “Every word. You were never part of this mission, Kyungsoo. I was supposed to stay away from you but I just couldn’t.”

 

Kyungsoo scoffs, looking away as anger flashes over his features before he quickly settles his mask back into place. “Don’t even try it. I only have to wonder how I was so blind to be taken in by you.”

 

“Because I love you!” Chanyeol takes a step forward and finds the barrel aimed at his head. “I meant it. I put it all behind. For you. I took a bullet. For you. It was all for you.”

 

The rain is crashing down around them now, so loud it covers the ragged pants of his breathing. He’s glad it obscures the tears welling in his eyes. If they spill over no one will ever know he cried, the rain washing all evidence away. For so long all he can do is stare at Kyungsoo, soaked through from the rain, staring back unblinking at him as if trying to commit him to memory.

 

“Know that it disgusts me to owe you a debt,” Kyungsoo snarls. “Know that it’s the only reason you will live tonight.”

 

Something lifts off his chest and he can finally breathe again. If he lives there’s still a chance. Still a chance to convince Kyungsoo.

 

“I suggest you run very far away and never let me see you again.”

 

And then he’s gone, fading into the rain in a matter of moments. Stunned, disorientated, his world crashing around him, Chanyeol can only blink into the torrential rain and try not to cry. He’s alive. He’s alive, but he’s not sure what it means if Kyungsoo can look at him with such hatred on his face.

 

For a long time he stands there. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t cry. Doesn’t think. All Chanyeol can do is break.

 

*

 

In a daze he calls a cab back to his flat. Numbly he stares at the wall as he showers, hot water steaming off his frozen body. He doesn’t care if they off him now. He doesn’t care about anything. There’s no going back once he’s been marked a traitor. He’ll be hunted for the rest of his days, anyway. For all that Kyungsoo might have spared him, his days are still numbered.

 

Reality crashes upon him like a tonne of bricks and he sinks on his bed, hollow eyed and bleary. A loud noise startles him, entire body flinching, but then he realises it’s the phone still in the pocket of the jeans he left discarded on his floor. It’s Minseok. But he doesn’t even care, so he thumbs to answer, not even bothering to say anything.

 

“It’s Kyungsoo,” says Minseok. “He’s been arrested by the police. Apparently they’ve found some charges to stick him with.”

 

Chanyeol feels his stomach drop to his feet. It takes him a moment to summon his words, feeling like his entire world is collapsing in front of him. Minseok doesn’t know about him, and somehow, in the time between their confrontation and now, Kyungsoo has been taken in. “No – no, he can’t – you have lawyers, right? Suho will get him out.”

 

The pause followed by a soft sigh through the line is damning. His sweaty grip tightens on his phone. “It doesn’t look good. Taemin says the amount of evidence they have is pretty conclusive.”

 

Some of that evidence is probably Chanyeol’s, from the time before he fell in so deep he knew there was no way out. He knows. There was never any decision to make. He’s already made it. It’s Kyungsoo. From the moment his eyes first landed on him, it’s Kyungsoo. And now Chanyeol has fucked it up for both of them.

 

“Fuck,” he exclaims, slamming his fist against the wall. “Fuck, Minseok,” he says, stalking away. “We can’t let him go down. I need to do something.” He needs to speak to whoever he can. They weren’t supposed to do it like this. He was supposed to know when they were planning on making their move. But they left him to die, so now Chanyeol is going to see them all pay.

 

“I know there’s something going on with you two but you need to cool your head. Don’t do anything stupid. Hear me, Chanyeol? Think before you make things worse.”

 

A laugh escapes him; an ugly, desperate sound that bubbles up from his chest and spills from his mouth. “It’s too late,” he says, cutting off Minseok before he can reply. He throws his phone onto the bed. “It’s all too fucking late.”

 

The first car he sees outside his flat he smashes in the window and opens the door, climbing in. He’s going to visit Siwon and find out whatever the fuck is going on. After all, dead men can’t really be arrested, can they?

 

*

 

“What the fuck, Siwon?”

 

Siwon rises quickly and shuts the blinds to his office. “I’m surprised they let you in here.”

 

“Did you stop to think about what might happen to me if my identity got compromised before you went and pulled this? You didn’t even warn me!”

 

Siwon sits at his desk, surveying him calmly. It only inflames him more. “Because I knew you had turned your back on us. I knew it was too late for you to turn on them but it wasn’t too late to save you.”

 

“You thought they’d kill me, didn’t you?”

 

“Chanyeol, you’re compromised. I saw it, that time at the hospital. How you begged me to let you stay just a little longer.” Siwon shakes his head, rubbing at his jaw. “I don’t know what you’ve been through but I can see where your loyalties lie now. It’s not too late, Chanyeol. We have good people here who can help you remember who you are. We can get you the best of counselling and therapy.”

 

Chanyeol takes a step back. “No. No, you left me to die! You don’t care about me!” His screaming is drawing attention, men through the slits in the blind moving towards the office as if to grab him.

 

Exhaling, he breathes out his anger and stills. Siwon must notice because his eyes widen, staring at him as if he doesn’t recognise him. “What are you –”

 

Chanyeol throws open the door and stalks off. Heads turn as he goes but Chanyeol is blind to them. All he can focus on is saving Kyungsoo. There’s still hope. There’s still a way to save him before he he’s thrown away in some hole for good. They’ll need to interrogate him first and Chanyeol happens to know exactly where they’ll do that. He can fix this - so long as he doesn't get arrested himself.

 

He just doesn’t care anymore. So he marches right down to the records room in the basement – his pass still gets him through security – and he rifles through the shelves, pulling them out one by one and flinging them to floor with little disregard for the meticulous filing system. It takes him a long time, nearly ready to give up, but he remembers the date that Hyungsoo died and it’s the key. Flipping through the file, he satisfies himself that it’s the one he wants and then he makes a hasty retreat before anyone finds out what he’s doing.

 

He nearly makes it, so many of the staff unaware that he’s been undercover simply nodding in greeting. The entrance is in sight, blessed daylight spilling through the glass door. Freedom. His whole body is thrumming with adrenaline.

 

“Chanyeol?”

 

A figure in front of his path forces him to look up, into the handsome face of Leeteuk, peering at him with worried eyes. His eyes run over the uniform, the badges, and pieces in his mind begin to snap together. “You’re…”

 

Leeteuk nods, looking pleased. “I was just promoted last week. I’m now the new Chief of Police for Seoul.”

 

Chanyeol laughs. Of course. God, how he’s been played. Not by the mob, but by the very people he thought he could trust. Does Siwon know? He’s not sure – frankly, he doesn’t care anymore – but he can’t believe it. In the very beginning Leeteuk had warned him what might happen. That he might become consumed by the job. To think Leeteuk had known all too well – because he’s still living that double life no matter how much he pretends that he’s past it. Leeteuk can’t let go anymore than Chanyeol can.

 

Leeteuk’s expression sobers as he takes in a hysterical Chanyeol, buckled over with the force of his laughter. “You’ve changed, haven’t you, Chanyeol?”

 

He straightens, mirroring Leeteuk’s cool expression. “No more than you, I imagine.”

 

Leeteuk dips his head. “So you know.”

 

“I don’t know anything. The only thing I’ve learned is that I can’t be both. It’s just not possible.”

 

“It is possible, Chanyeol. Because it’s the only way. The only way to rid our city of the filth that plagues our streets. You must have seen it, the way innocents get caught in the crossfire. Surely you would not side with that.”

 

Chanyeol shudders, remembering the way the light had left that poor boy’s eyes. “He was just a child! You sent him into that.”

 

“Exo might like to pretend they’re a legitimate business but I know better.” Leeteuk’s eyes harden. “They will all fall. I will see to it. Sometimes casualties are necessary.”

 

“But you’re still involved with your gang, aren’t you?” Chanyeol did his reading, back when Siwon had forced him to speak to others. He knows about Leeteuk’s time with Kim Heechul’s gang. He knows some of the things the man had to do to survive. He;s the worst kind of hypocrite, unable to see that he's every bit as criminal as the men he hunts.

 

“The only way to take them down is from the inside. I want to make Seoul safe again. You could help me, Chanyeol. You have their trust.”

 

Chanyeol can’t help it; he laughs again. “Do you hear yourself? At least I know I’m gone but you – you really believe you’re doing the right thing, don’t you?” He shakes his head, a pitying expression on his face. Taking a step backwards, towards the door, he says, “And I don’t have their trust. Not anymore. Just like you’ve lost mine.”

 

“I’m warning you now. If you walk out that door you declare yourself an enemy of mine. Of Seoul’s police.”

 

Chanyeol takes one last look at Leeteuk – handsome, refined Leeteuk in his shiny new uniform – and waves cheerfully before he turns. What a pathetic lie. He’s not going to pretend anymore. He can’t live the lie any longer.

 

At least Chanyeol is aware that he’s fucked.

 

*

 

It’s so fucking stupid, walking into an enemy gang’s territory. But Chanyeol doesn’t really belong to the Exo Group anymore. He’s not police, not the mob, not anything really. It should be terrifying but it’s actually kind of liberating. He’s free. Freer than he’s ever been. And now he holds the pen; the story is his to write.

 

“This is my gift to you,” he says, slapping the file in front of Son Hyunwoo, Yoo Kihyun squinting suspiciously at his side. “This is everything the police have on Huang Zitao, including evidence that he killed Kim Hyungsoo.”

 

“This could be fake,” says Kihyun, glaring at the file like he’s just dropped a pile of snakes on the desk.

 

Chanyeol shrugs. “Take it as you will.”

 

Hyunwoo flips through it, expression pensive. “I don’t know, Kihyun. There’s photographic evidence.”

 

Kihyun continues to stare through him, expression cold enough to freeze hellfire. “What do you want?”

 

He sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Kyungsoo got arrested. I need help to break him out.”

 

“Why can’t your men help?”

 

Chanyeol grimaces, forcing himself not to break his gaze. “We had a little bit of a – a tiff – and I’m not in the good books. Look, I don’t care about the history here. I just want to save Kyungsoo. Help me and you’ll never have to see me again.”

 

Kihyun and Hyunwoo share a long look, a whole conversation had between nothing but eye contact, before Hyunwoo looks back at him. He’s an imposing man, is Hyunwoo, all staggering bulk and a completely unreadable face. But finally he nods. “Jooheon speaks well of you, so we’ll help you this one time.”

 

“On the condition that Exo never bothers us again,” adds Kihyun. For all that he’s short, he’s probably even more intimidating that his leader.

 

Chanyeol simply nods. He doesn’t know if it’s something he can even promise but he’ll do anything, if it means he can get Kyungsoo back. Even if it means he sides with the enemy. No action is too much.

 

*

 

The cells are cold and dark. Chanyeol suppresses a shiver and continues moving, ignoring the sound of gunfire above. He’s too far gone to care now, but even so, it tugs on his conscience. That is, until he hears movement coming from the last cell in the block. The keys jingle in his hand as he walks.

 

When he looks through the bars into a tiny box of a cell, there sitting on a small bench rests a familiar figure, and it steals the breath from him. Kyungsoo looks up, so still for a moment before he’s blinking his lovely dark eyes and rising up onto his feet.

 

“Chanyeol? What on earth are you–”

 

Chanyeol dangles the keys from his finger. “Jailbreak time.”

 

Kyungsoo’s mouth drops open before his face darkens, jaw clenching. “Go home, Chanyeol. Go back to your ordinary, safe little life.”

 

His grip tightens around the bars. “Don’t you see, I can’t. I can’t go back now. You changed my world, Do Kyungsoo. I won’t leave without you.”

 

Something in Kyungsoo’s expression changes, posture softening. He steps up to the bars, fingers curling around his so that they're sharing warmth. “You, Park Chanyeol, are a fucking idiot.”

 

“Yep,” he agrees, unlatching the lock until the door swings open, allowing him to cross that one last barrier to Kyungsoo, “but I’m your fucking idiot.”

 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, a grin breaking across his face. “I can’t believe you.”

 

Chanyeol holds out his hand, grin mirroring Kyungsoo’s. “Let’s get out of here?”

 

Kyungsoo grabs his hand and they run.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The plot is??? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thanks for reading, my good folks!


End file.
